


Something Happened on the Way to Heaven

by Descendree



Series: The Libraryverse [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is Still Bad at Feelings, Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Angst and Feels, Discussion of non-con, Do not trust the author, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Foreshadowing, Humor, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Past Rape/Non-con, Romance, Sequel, mentions of fairy tales
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 186,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25444447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descendree/pseuds/Descendree
Summary: Alastor thought he had it all worked out.Yes, there had been a few hiccups in his ultimate plan and sure, noteverythinghad turned out the way he had envisioned it… but those were just minor setbacks! Nothing serious! Nothing that couldpossiblyget in the way of his darling Charlie’s certain ascension to Heaven!Right…?(Sequel to “The Library, or The Discovery of Heaven”)
Relationships: Alastor/Charlie Magne, Angel Dust/Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: The Libraryverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083731
Comments: 1050
Kudos: 480





	1. The Sealskin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm back! With the sequel to "The Library, or The Discovery of Heaven", as promised. Yay! 8DDDDDDD
> 
> At this point, there's not much to tell you yet. Well okay, that's a lie, I have a _lot_ in store for you, after all… But I can't tell you anything about it. Not at this moment, in any case! But prepare yourself. I'm just saying.
> 
> Oh, maybe I should tell you _this_ , though: **I'm going to update once a week, every Wednesday.** I thought about updating twice a week, but... well, it simply isn't beneficial for my health. So yeah, once a week it is, and I hope you understand!^^
> 
> Also nice to know: the chapter titles are no longer forbidden/banned books, but different kinds of folktales, myths and fairy tales. 
> 
> Now - please enjoy the very first chapter of this new fanfic, and let me know what you thought of it!^^

_“I broke your heart, did I not?”_

Ah, yes yes. 

It was that single sentence of the Angel that kept haunting me – even _now,_ many weeks later. And with those seven methodically spoken words, the entire memory of that particular day was brought back up from the darkest depths of my mind as well. 

Time after time. Night after night. Not every night, mind you – oh ho ho, thankfully _not,_ since that would be too boorish! – but…

It came to me on nights I least expected it. When the cross on my hand started to ache and burn, so much and so painfully I could barely think straight. 

Like _this_ very night. 

I laid in bed, with Charlie’s sleeping figure on top of me, and I stared at the black nothingness above me.

I still remembered. How my harsh, sadistic laughing at the severely wounded Angel had come to an abrupt end. My feet stopped, too. They had simply refused to keep on walking, lost the will to keep on moving forward. Just because of that one sentence. Just because of those words Hakim had hurled at me, his tone teetering back and forth between delighted surprise and sheer _pity._

My blood had run cold at that moment. My chest tightened, my heart sunk. 

Even back then, I knew I should have walked out of Rosie’s dungeon, immediately. I should have kept going. 

I wasn’t entirely sure why I didn’t. Perhaps I, somehow, for whatever reason, wanted to hear what else the Angel had to say? I even recalled holding in my breath, for God’s sake.

_“Oh do not worry, Alastor. You still have those six months. More than enough to let this suffocating heartache you are feeling grow even worse. Do whatever you want with her. Make her happy. Make her smile. Make her swear her undying love to you and only you. Then start preparing yourself for what will undeniably happen. Try to. I promise you that it will tear whatever that is left of that wasted heart of yours to shreds. The pain and agony will start to fester, like an open, filthy wound. And I will be there to watch it – all of it.”_

After _that_ charming and foreboding warning (or was it a _promise,_ actually?), my legs finally found their strength back and with big, hurried steps, I had exited the cold and dark cellar. 

Everything happened so fast then: when I had left the dungeon, I quickly gave my dear, feather-loving ally some final instructions, before getting out of ~~Franklin and~~ Rosie’s Emporium. I needed to get away from there - away away **_away._** Once I stood outside, I was relieved and wanted to praise myself, first: I had handled that situation back there rather well, in spite of my wounded hand, racing heart and maddening thoughts, or so I believed! 

But… 

Then, I finally noticed I had been grinding my teeth _hard,_ all the way from walking the torture chamber’s stairway to eventually ending up back out on the streets. All this time, I had been clenching my jaws together so tightly it _hurt._ And that was not all: I _also_ suddenly realized in horror that, back in Rosie’s establishment, I had slammed the dungeon’s door far too aggressively to my liking – since it was left hanging in its hinges afterwards, partly destroyed. 

Ha! So much for _‘handling it rather well’_!

There weren’t enough conclusive terms in the dictionary to describe how unreasonably _angry_ I could still get, imagining just how much _satisfaction_ this undignified outburst of mine must have given that miserable, crawling Angel down there.

Or to put into words just how much it pierced my soul, that, later, in the library, Charlie told me…

She… she said…

When she practically asked me to…

To...

_“If the two of us keep it up for the following couple of months… I will ask you if it’s alright for me to… to replace that cord with something… s-something else.”_

Charlie muttered something inaudible in her sleep, gleefully rubbing her now goofy-looking face against my chest. I smiled, sighed and closed my eyes, just for a moment. My fingers touched the cord that was still looped around the ring finger of my marked hand. This same hand… it had undergone _multiple_ life-changing alternations in the timespan of two mere days – a very awful one and a very good one, _ha,_ how amazingly _ironic._

However, only one of them was permanent.

Thinking _those_ kind of thoughts concerning my current ordeal always caused lumps in my throat to appear out of nowhere. Lumps I couldn’t swallow, no matter how stubbornly I tried to – and in a sudden and urgent impulse, I wrapped my arms around Charlie, pulled her against me tightly and hid my face into her blonde hair. She let out a small moan and wiggled a bit, but she didn’t seem to wake up. 

Oh, Charlie – my sweet, darling princess. She wasn’t a vaccine for any deadly disease and holding her wouldn’t solve my problems, not in the slightest – but her familiar, cottony scent always soothed me, her body’s gentle warmth effortlessly putting my mind at ease. 

I loved her. I loved her so, _so_ much.

And it was alright.

My plan hadn’t failed.

I simply needed to _alter_ it a bit.

And I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t know how to do just _that._

  
**AaA  
  
**

  
“Al…?”

My train of thought got interrupted when Charlie’s sleepy voice spoke up – and I completely forgot my complicated thoughts altogether when her slim hand started patting my face. It was a very friendly and well-meant gesture of her, hence why it was a bit unfortunate my lover’s investigative fingers almost _stabbed me in the eyeball_ , as she checked whether or not my eyes were closed.

For the record, they were _not._

“Ouch,” I therefore – logically – responded. 

“Are you having trouble sleeping again,” she slurred as I picked her hand off my face and gave it an appreciative squeeze, “you should… stop _doing_ that, Al, it’s not… _healthy…”_

“Sadly enough, I can’t ‘stop’ having trouble falling asleep, my dear,” I replied with a slight chuckle.

Charlie stirred – and I felt a few awkward yet pleasant jolts shoot through my body as hers moved, making it so she could rest her head on top of her arms, that were still laying on my torso. Even though it was dark, I could see her round and outspoken eyes, looking at me with worry. Her naked flesh enveloped me almost completely: subtly nestled in-between my legs, pressing on my stomach and gracing my upper body, her soft, bare limbs kindly reminding me of the unplanned yet _decisive_ lovemaking we had done a couple of hours earlier.

  
**AaA  
  
**

Truth be told, she had only wanted to massage my hand before we’d turn in for the night, since she had noticed during the day it was causing me pain. Yet somehow, Charlie had ended up on her back, her flushed face hot and sweaty on the mattress and her shapely legs hooked over my shoulders, gasping out encouragements and quivering over her entire body as I took her like that. I had confusedly wondered about _how_ and _why_ at first, before I simply let the thrill and the enjoyment of the moment take over control – and when I asked Charlie about it later, she admitted she was just as surprised as I had been about how the sex had occurred all of a sudden.

She didn’t complain though, she had let me know with a big, toothy smile, _ruthlessly_ making me fall in love with her all over again, and therefore forcing me to kiss her silly once more. 

You can’t imagine how much I loved the sound of her affectionate mewls and giggles.  
  


**AaA  
  
**

Charlie was now watching me, furrowing her brows with utmost concentration.

“Something’s eating you,” she said. “I can tell.”

“How observant you are,” I smiled, collecting her bubbly face in my hands.

Charlie just kept looking at me. “Will you tell me?”

I half-gently, half-teasingly caressed her cheeks, unable to look away from her piercing gaze. Telling Charlie what was the matter – oh it was _tempting,_ it was. Charlie probably was the one person in Hell I trusted the most of all and I can’t deny that each time I opened up my heart to her and told her what was troubling me, she knew to make me feel better – to reach out to me, to lift my spirits, to heal what appeared to be a wounded part of me.

However, this was the _single_ problem I couldn’t and wouldn’t bother her with.

And I honestly told her that. She had the right to know _that_ much, at least.

Charlie clearly didn’t like I couldn’t tell her what was bugging me, especially because she (rightfully) expected it to be something important.

“So… you’re just going to struggle with it all alone, then?” she asked. 

I nodded, now putting my hands on her back. I carefully followed the curve of her back – up and down and up again. 

“I fear I have to solve this by myself, my love. It’s _that_ kind of problem.”

“There is _no_ kind of problem you need to solve all by yourself.” Charlie’s frown deepened, putting her arms around me and placing her chin on top of my chest.

“So you _never_ needed to handle something all by yourself? You _never_ had to deal with something you didn’t want anybody else to interfere with?” I wanted to know.

“Well… uhm…” Charlie huffed. “Okay, okay – I’ll admit that in the past, I, too, wanted to sort certain things out on my own. But those were… relatively _small_ problems. Nothing _big.”_

“Oh my.” I raised an eyebrow. “Whatever makes you think my problem is a big one?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You _deny_ it is?”

“I… no,” I said, a bit caught off guard by her blunt directness.

“Well there you go.”

That drew out a laugh from me, since she sounded so smug about it. I managed to pull her up some more and planted a kiss on her cheek. She let me, albeit begrudgingly, and was quiet for a few moments after that. I could tell she was thinking about something, judging on the way she was still knitting her eyebrows together.

I jokingly tried to smooth the wrinkles in her forehead. “Now now, don’t sulk like that, my love. It doesn’t suit your pretty face!”

Instead of responding, Charlie took my hands and folded them in-between her own, lacing her fingers together. She then brought her mouth to the collection of hands and pressed a kiss on top of it. I felt the touch of her lips against my skin and my broad smile faltered.

“My darling Charlie – oh _please_ cheer up, sweetheart. It will be alright. I promise you it will.”

“That doesn't help. I _still_ worry about you,” she muttered against my knuckles, her eyes looking away from me. “And I want to help you. In whatever way possible.”

“Well…” I hummed.

Charlie shook her head and squeezed my hands. “It wasn’t a question, Al. It was an _announcement._ I _will_ help you – and I will start doing that right _now.”_

Her eyes stared at me once again, fierce and determined. It was difficult to go against her when she was on top of me, gripping my hands, looking down on me like that, seemingly in complete control over the situation. This would have greatly annoyed and even _upset_ me in any other scenario, with any other person that dared to try and defy me – but not with Charlie. Never with Charlie.

Amused, I beamed a questioning grin up at her. “Oh ho, _are_ you now? Well then, how are you planning to help me, my dear?”

“By telling you about how my day was!”

I blinked. “Oh! Well. Not that I don’t want to listen to you, but _how,_ my darling, will _that_ help me ou—”

“So anyway!” Charlie let go of my hands to wrap hers around me again, plopping her chin onto my chest once more. “I got up really early today and found out that I had apparently squirmed and twisted around in my sleep _so_ much, that I had ended up at the footboard of the bed, of all places, and also, I had stolen all of the bedsheets.”

“Well that explains both my cold feet and that strange, blonde cocoon lying on the bed this morning.”

_“Ssssshhhh!”_ Charlie put a firm finger to my lips. “Keep your snarky remarks to yourself – you are only allowed to _listen.”_

“Awight,” I managed to say – and in the following ten to fifteen minutes, I didn’t utter a single word while Charlie talked.

And talked.

And talked.

And _talked._

About the most _mundane_ things she had done the other day, in the most _detailed_ way.

I simply listened to her lovely voice, slowly but surely getting more trouble suppressing my yawns. However, it wasn’t until after my eyelids began to actually actively lower themselves that I finally realized just what Charlie was up to, chatting away like that, even when her words were starting to sound a bit raspy and disjointed.

Moved and endeared by her bizarre determination to literally _bore_ me to sleep, even if it meant it would tire her even more, I sneaked my arms around her and cut her off with a brash kiss midsentence. Charlie’s eyes fluttered at that, her breathing coming out in soft, bewildered puffs of air after I pulled back.

However, she pretended nothing had happened at all and cleared her throat, trying to continue. “…a-anyway… and, um, when I spoke to Vaggie and told her about that vase in the hallway on the second floor, she _ah—”_

She let out another surprised gasp when I promptly kissed her again and turned to lay on my side, taking her unguarded, yet _very_ willing body with me. Charlie’s nails lightly scraped against my back, urging me to stop, which I did.

“You – you should let me finish my story,” she panted, while I sluggishly stroke a thumb over her wet lips, “it’s very important you let me _mwhl—”_

During the third time I rudely interrupted her monologue by kissing the words away, Charlie stopped attempting to go on, sighed in defeat and latched herself onto me, lovingly returning the kisses. Her hands slithered further up my back and fixedly held on to my shoulders, as I took her face in my hands again and kept it in place during the abundance of kisses I smothered her wonderful person with. She moaned feebly and though I could tell she was _thrilled_ by the sudden love attack, I also sensed she barely had any energy left, as she didn’t start groping me somewhere down the lane.

(And yes, the absence of groping indeed was a clear sign the girl was getting drowsy, because my _goodness_ did she _love_ to grope me to her heart’s content otherwise, no matter what kind of - active - mood she was in.)

Not wanting to tire her out even more, I stopped snogging her and pressed Charlie’s delightful body against mine, mumbling a heartfelt “thank you” into her locks and curls.

“This helped,” I softly said. “This helped me a lot, my love.”

“Yeah?” Charlie’s voice sounded faint and a bit breathless, but also relieved. “Will you be able to sleep now?”

I chuckled. “Oh absolutely.” 

It wasn’t even a lie. I _had_ gotten sleepy – and after all that relentless, yet affectionate smooching, my energy had been drained as well. There now was almost nothing left of it, so I had no choice but to let my troublesome worries and thoughts sink away into the back of my head.

Comforted, I pulled her even closer and quietly swept Charlie’s hair away from her forehead, so I could place a last, grateful kiss there. She replied with a gentle “I love you too”, nuzzled her face deeper into my embrace – and she was asleep before I knew it.

Luckily, this time, so was I.

  
**AaA**

  
As the manager and founder of her redemption hotel, Charlie had a rather brutal schedule: almost every day, she needed to get up around 5 o’clock. She would then work almost non-stop during the rest of the day, with the exception of the few short breaks she allowed herself to have (the longest period of free time was around noon, when she would retreat herself into the library for a whole hour). She usually went to bed at a fairly normal time – due to Vaggie taking over most of her duties around 5 PM or so – but there were times the poor princess only came stumbling into the bedroom when it was _far_ past midnight.

Since I had an abysmal sleeping schedule anyway, I always waited for her during those very busy days. Besides, it was such a great sight to behold Charlie’s dulled, faded eyes temporarily light up again, once she noticed I was in her bed, still awake, and holding out my arms towards her, ready to welcome her into them.

She made good use of them, she did. 

Charlie was a diligent worker… but lately, on Sundays, she slacked off. She then granted herself the luxury to sleep in and not worry too much about the hotel and everything that had something to do with it. 

And why wouldn’t she, really? Sundays were pretty laid back at the hotel anyway, because most of the sinners would stay in bed until noon. After finally getting out of their disgusting, greasy, dusty sleep nests, they’d simply hang around the place for the remainder of the day, without causing much trouble. 

They had a good reason to stay out of trouble, though, because, you see… 

_I_ was running the hotel on Sunday these days.  
  


  
**AaA  
  
**

Indeed, indeed! It was the truth! 

After discussing it with both Vaggie and Charlie one day, the lovely Princess of Hell had given me her Royal permission to – and I quote – “make sure the tenants behave themselves on Sundays”. 

_“Without_ killing, torturing or otherwise hurting them,” Vaggie, that spoilsport, had been quick to add to that.

“Alright,” I had agreed.

“Mentally _or_ physically.”

“Fine.”

“And you can’t use others to hurt people _for_ you, either!”

“Yes, yes. Are you quite _done_ already, my dear? Or do you have a whole list with demands at the ready?”

Vaggie had narrowed her eyes at that and pulled out _an actual list_ from her breast area (why keep it _there?_ Did Charlie keep things there as well? Whatever was wrong with using a _purse?)._ The moth woman then swiftly slapped the back of her hand onto the paper multiple times, like a disgruntled, sassy mother.

Naturally, my mood had soured. “I was jesting about the list.”

“So was I.” Vaggie smiled. “For this is a _contract.”_

“What?”

“Now _sign it_ , asshole.”

“I will _not_ sign that.”

Charlie (who had been merely looking on for a while during all of this) gave my coat a soft tug. She didn’t say much, she simply gazed up at me with those gorgeous eyes I adored so much – gorgeous eyes that had started getting dark circles underneath them, because of the stress that had been building up over the past few exceptionally swamped days she had been going through. Her lips formed the word “please” – and with a weird, low grunt, I snatched the contract/list/paper from a smug-looking Vaggie’s hands and signed it, ignoring the boo’s and howls from my annoyed radio audience.

I wasn’t happy with this outcome either – but the aching I felt in my hand as I put my name underneath Vaggie’s stupid little contract… it reminded me that there were _worse_ deals than this one to go on with.

Much… _much_ worse.

  
**AaA  
**

  
The day after Charlie had successfully lulled me to sleep with her tedious stories happened to be a Sunday – and so, I left the coziness of Charlie’s bed early, to get myself ready for the day. I did it carefully, so that Charlie wouldn’t wake up. She needed her rest.

After taking a refreshing shower, deciding on what to make for breakfast and getting myself dressed, I looked at the princess via the large mirror in her bedroom as I adjusted my bowtie. This time, most likely because she had been holding me while falling asleep the night before, she hadn’t ended up sprawled all over the bed. She… still had a pretty interesting sleeping position nevertheless: she laid on her back, her arms thrown above her head with her blonde hair fanned out beautifully. The sheets of the bed were only partly covering her, so her naked, upper body was completely exposed.

Oh! She… she…

She would _definitely_ catch a cold like that! We wouldn’t want _that_ to happen, now!

So I finished up my business with the mirror and my bowtie, after which I made my way to the bed, took the covers and pulled them over my lover as neatly and discreetly as possible. 

There!

Then, I clumsily patted her head, since I got the urge to do something sweet without accidentally waking the darling girl up (I got these time-consuming tendencies at least ten times a day whenever I was a tad too close to her and yes, it was _very_ bothersome, but what can you do about it). Right after doing that, I wanted to leave the room…

…however, Charlie’s hand suddenly grabbed mine, her fingers fumbling with my own.

Of course, I stopped dead in my tracks. Silently, I looked at our hands, first, before looking at Charlie – and indeed, she was awake. Yes, her eyes were a bit droopy and I could tell she probably was struggling to keep them open, but she saw me, and she smiled.

“Hi Al.”

“Good morning, my love.” I lowered my other hand on top of her head to caress her once more. “I’m sorry – did I wake you up?”

“Naah, I’ve been awake for a little while…” Charlie suppressed a yawn.

I chuckled. She wasn’t fooling anybody. 

“Do go back to sleep. It’s Sunday – you can have a few more hours to yourself, my dear.”

“I know, I know… and I will. I just wanted to do _this.”_

She gripped my hand a bit tighter and brought it to her face. She twisted it so that the back of my hand with the scar faced her mouth – and she pecked it ever so tenderly. Her eyes sought contact with mine as her lips still lingered on my skin. 

“Does it feel better now?”

I didn’t respond right away, because I highly suspected I would only be able to stutter and stumble over my words after such an endearing and affectionate gesture. So instead, I smiled and nodded, attempting to remove my hand out of her grasp – and I failed _hilariously,_ as she immediately took a strong hold on it.

“How comes that whenever I want to make _you_ feel good… it always ends with you making _me_ feel good,” she muttered, most likely referring to what had happened the night before.

Again (and trust me, I was _deeply_ ashamed to admit this), I didn’t know how to answer her somewhat sad-sounding question. Charlie didn’t wait up for me to find the right answer: she fell back asleep almost instantly, her rosy cheeks warm and soft to the touch as my fingers fondly brushed over her sleeping face. 

While I allowed myself to stay at Charlie’s side just a little bit longer, using the fact she was still holding my hand as a feeble excuse to loiter around, I found myself thinking that there were probably many things in this forsaken afterlife that weren’t clear to me.

But Charlie’s ridiculous love for me _was._

My _goodness._

It was _crystal clear_ to me.

She wholeheartedly _loved_ me, so very _much._

I gulped. It was a good thing I was finally able to free my hand, so that I could decently grasp my own stupidly smiling face, attempting to stop the sudden rush of blood that violently shot up to my pale cheeks.

This girl was going to be the sweetest, most wonderful death of me, wasn’t she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sealskin, or selkie, is an incredibly beautiful and immortal female who lives as a seal in the water, but sheds her skin to be able to walk on land. One day, a fisherman steals the skin of this being and locks it up in his trunk. The selkie, unable to transform back into her original form, meets him, falls in love with him, goes home with the man and the two marry. They have a happy marriage and the sealskin blesses their family with multiple children – but she eventually gets homesick and longs to go back to the sea. When her husband forgets to take the key to the truck with him as he goes fishing one day, the selkie retrieves her skin – and the urge to return to the water grows too much for her to bear. She says goodbye to her children, puts on her sealskin and dives into the sea, never to return to the land again.  
> Although the fisherman is struck with grief, he from this moment on always catches the best fish – and people who watch him and his children walk on the beach, often notice a seal out in the sea, gingerly following them.
> 
> There are many versions and theories about the origins of this old, Icelandic/Irish folk tale, but nobody’s completely sure who came up with the original story first.


	2. The Boy Who Went Forth to Learn Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, thanks for all of your wonderful comments on chapter 1!^^ I'm so happy to see people really _were_ waiting for the Library's sequel!  
> Call me stupid or naïve, but I _did_ wonder about that, to be honest.^^;;; It's good to see my fears were a bit ridiculous. So yeah! Thank you for showing me wrong! That made me really happy! 8DDDDDD
> 
> Well, just one chapter in, and [Charlotte](https://twitter.com/Loonette3) already made some wonderful fanart!^^ Look at [these](https://twitter.com/Loonette3/status/1286384214779232261) adorable sketches of chapter 1... and while you are at it anyway, better take a gander at [this](https://twitter.com/Loonette3/status/1286767222925524992) gorgeous piece of art she made after reading all of "The Library, or The Discovery of Heaven". It's amazing. Absolutely amazing.^^  
> Now that I'm at it anyway - [Bee](https://twitter.com/alastxrx) made [these](https://twitter.com/alastxrx/status/1288288812825796608) very fluffy drawings, too. Check them out! 8DDDDDDD  
> And just when I was editing this chapter, [Chisena](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt) went and posted [these](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1288469028764176384) INSANELY CUTE drawings of Charlie, happily groping Al's butt. Because that's what she does. You'll see. XDDDDDDDD
> 
> Now - please enjoy the chapter!^^

After my arrival, it actually did not even take a _full week_ for me to realize that Alastor had been absolutely _right_ about the goodness of his precious ‘Charlie’ and her hotel. To my great annoyance, if I may add. 

And that was even _before_ the brand-new therapy sessions the hotel wanted to treat their sinners with had begun. How very troublesome indeed.

It was all because of… well, all because of Princess Charlotte _herself,_ really.

She did not know who I was.

She did not know why I had come to her hotel.

And she had not _one_ reason to be kind to me. Not a single one.

I had not been kind to _her,_ for example. Ever since stepping over the doorstep of her insane, rickety and dysfunctional establishment, I had been cold and aloof towards her – towards everybody, to be honest. I kept to myself and although I never acted out of line, I did not show the princess much respect, either. I ignored her questions, avoided her whenever I could and if I could not, I made sure to show her just how much I hated to be here at any given time. 

Why should I be respectful towards her? 

She was a _weakling,_ I believed.

A weak, gullible _girl._

And the sole cause why I was stuck in Hell for at least half a year.

It was not fair of me, I knew that. I also knew that Princess Charlotte was only _indirectly_ to blame for the fact her mad lover had decided to take me as his prisoner. Furthermore, I realized the woman probably would _immediately_ set me free if she had been able to, if only she knew what Alastor had been scheming behind her back. 

All of that did not stop me from trying my hardest to despise her. 

…however.

It got increasingly more difficult for me to despise somebody who, right from the start, had given me nothing but _kindness_ and _compassion._

Princess Charlotte was not impressed by my icy demeanor, nor was she fazed. She had not responded to my vile remarks about the state her hotel was in and during the first few weeks, she had happily explained to me what her hotel was all about (guiding sinners to redemption, naturally), given me a bedroom all to myself and a fairly structured and manageable day-to-day schedule. Plus, she made sure to – directly as well as indirectly – check on me every day.

Not only me, though: she checked on _every_ sinner, _every_ day. She knew most of them by name as well. I could tell the princess – who was _not_ like I had expected her to be – was giving it her all, doing the best she could, just so she could provide the people that lived under her roof with all the support and guidance they needed. 

Speaking about the sinners in her hotel – at first I was certain they, like me, did not respect her. That they ridiculed her and merely _used_ her offer to come live in the hotel as an excuse to get a free meal and a bed to sleep in.

This was not really the case, though. 

According to the small, cleaning cyclops-lady – this odd creature one day just started _rattling_ at me for whatever reason – the sinners at the very beginning indeed did not have a fraction of respect for Hell’s next ruler in line. They thought of her as a weird, disillusioned, spoiled princess that was all talk and no action… but that changed a few months ago, when sinners that had gotten interested in reading books got parts their demonic deformities altered. Ever since then, most of the hotel’s tenants had grown a hidden, yet surprisingly _deep_ respect for Princess Charlotte. They would never tell her, since that was too much to ask of them, but it was _there._

The rest of the princess’ subjects – the ones that did not live at the hotel – still treated her like she was an idiot, sadly enough: on the news and during other television shows, she was mocked and made a fool of, at every opportunity they would get. 

In spite of that, the centuries-old, bizarre hybrid of a fallen Archangel and a demonic succubus always did her best to gracefully accept the jokes and the hurtful remarks. She rarely got angry and she almost never lost her patience. It probably helped that her staff – a strange, ragtag team of misfits, demons and clients – was quite devoted to her and defended her whenever they needed to. 

There was this moth lady who would yell and nag at everybody that dared to go against Princess Charlotte’s wishes. A spider pornstar that acted tough and arrogant, but clearly cared a _lot_ about his friends. The weird cleaning cyclops lady. A cat-shaped alcoholic that never _ever_ went against whatever request the princess made of him. Two mute goat demons that annoyed me greatly (they stalked me through the corridors of the hotel basically every day, probably because the princess told them to keep an eye on me).

And there was Alastor, of course. The Radio Demon himself. 

Apparently, he was not only the princess’ lover, but he also was her coworker and sponsor of some sorts? Something like that. 

I could not comprehend for the life of me _why_ he had started out aiding the princess in the first place (there were many rumors about it going around and he himself had apparently stated he just had been bored), but I suppose him falling in love with Princess Charlotte certainly had been convenient. It had made him _very_ useful and even _loyal_ to the hotel and its inhabitants. 

He was nothing but a horrible waste of life and space in my eyes, though.

  
**BbB  
**

Could I be _blamed,_ really? 

I had been stuck in that dark, moist torture chamber for such a long time and I had been hurt, mistreated and abused so relentlessly, that all of my emotions had simply _stopped_ manifesting themselves!

I still _had_ them (that is, they eventually returned to me), but I no longer displayed them. And that was not all: my angelic disposition, my wings, even my halo – _everything_ had either been taken away from me or had sunken into this swamp of despair deep inside of me. 

It all had happened in a span of those two horrible weeks, after I had been ruthlessly stolen from the Heavens Above. From my very own life. From… well, _everything._

All thanks to him.

The reason?

His need to trick me into deciding _one_ **_single_** person’s suitability for getting into Heaven.

All that trauma, all that pain, all that suffering that had been forced upon me and my body – it was all because of _one_ selfish _fool,_ attempting to do something _not-_ selfish for once, resulting into him doing something _so insanely selfish_ it almost cost me my very _life_ – or at the very least, most of my sanity.

While I managed to get back at the grinning madman in the most _rewarding_ way possible, I still was forced to stay in Hell for the next six months. Since everything was already more or less set in stone _before_ I had even come down to Hell (thanks to Alastor’s precise and manipulative planning), I was told I was going to spend those months in Princess Charlotte’s hotel.

I had no choice but to accept. I was an Angel and I was trapped in Hell – how else was I supposed to survive? 

  
**BbB**

  
Back then, I had expected Princess Charlotte’s hotel to be nothing more but a slightly better alternative from Rosie’s small, filthy cage. 

I had _not_ expected to be welcomed as a honorable guest and to be treated with respect, goodwill and care.

I had _not_ expected the carefully-prepared meals, the soft beds and the unexplainable feeling of relative safety.

And, like I had said before, I had _not_ expected to warm up to the princess. 

But after receiving all that unconditional friendliness of her _and_ after learning Princess Charlotte was going to be my personal therapist, had I ever really stood a _chance_ against her? 

  
**BbB**

  
That is correct.

 _Therapy sessions_. In _Hell._

It was hilarious. Truly, if I had still been able to laugh, I would be shaking with gleeful laughter so madly, tears would stream down my face like big, glistering mackerels, falling down a relentless waterfall. 

It was a metaphor. 

I was not good at metaphors.

Just like I was not good at showing emotions. Anymore.

Hence why I did _not_ laugh or shake with gleeful laughter when the hotel’s staff came with the announcement last week – I just sat there, on my uncomfortable stool, next to Razzle (who possessively clung at my right arm) and Dazzle (who had decided my other arm was his to take and chew on), and listened to the bubbly blonde princess on the podium in the main hall. I was not entirely sure the room was in fact officially called like that, but everybody seemed to agree that that was its name, so who was I to judge. 

Apparently, the princess and her coworkers had been training under former (crooked) counselors and (foul) life coaches for the past couple of weeks, in order to become quasi-certified ‘therapists’ and to take care of the hotel’s sinners just a little bit better. Their motto seemed to be ‘well-it’s-not-like-you-could-get-even-more-messed-up-anyway lol’ – and honestly? That was a fairly reasonable, logical way of thinking. 

You cannot break something that’s already been broken, forasmuch as I knew. You can only try to patch it up, slowly and stubbornly, hoping for the best. If it did not work out, you could always try again later. No harm done. 

Although, no harm done – it was during _this_ particular afternoon that I found out that, out of all the ‘therapists’ the hotel had trained, _the princess herself_ was going to be _my_ assigned therapist.

And judging on the triumphant, arrogant look Alastor had immediately given me from behind Princess Charlotte’s back when the ‘counselors’ and their designated ‘clients’ were being announced, this was _not_ a coincidence.

He had planned it all. Even _this,_ he had planned. 

What was even worse: it was _working,_ too, since I already accepted the fact I _liked_ the princess.

It was _infuriating._

However... 

Not _everything_ went according to his plan.

  
**BbB**

  
So about that first therapy session. 

Last Monday, Princess Charlotte and I had come together into a small, yet cozy room for the very first time. She as a therapist, me as her client

Frankly, I believed it was not an actual, honest-to-goodness therapy session. This was just our very first gathering in which Princess Charlotte had been _so_ anxious to mess something up, that the first ten minutes of the 60-minutes-during counseling mainly consisted of her, fumbling around with her pen and trying to tell me what I could expect of these therapy sessions… while I simply sat there and stared at her. 

“Are you _certain_ you are up to this task,” I had dryly asked her, as I moved around experimentally on the low, green sofa she, apparently, had prepared for these weekly therapy sessions.

“Yeah yeah yeah – sure!” she had responded, her hands trembling nervously as she tried to calm down and put her ballpoint on the paper of her bloc note. “Now – Bob! This consult is just to introduce ourselves to one another – nothing more, nothing less. That way, we can try to feel at ease with one another. We begin the _real_ therapy sessions next week. Isn’t that _great?_ Aren’t you _excited?”_

“At least one of us is,” I answered.

“O-okay!” She wiped her hair out of her eyes and swallowed. “S-so! Introductions! Well – you already who I am – I’m Charlie, the princess of Hell, daughter of Lucifer and Lilith, founder and owner of this very hotel and I’m hating this pen _so much_ right now because I just found out it doesn’t really write well, haha – s-so yeah! Tell me more about _Bob!_ Who is Bob?”

I helpfully pointed to myself. “I am Bob.”

She smiled – and she looked a bit stressed, I could tell. 

“Yes, I… I _know_ you are called Bob, but who is you – I mean, who _are_ you, Bob? You think you could tell me more about Bob? Please?”

I blinked, but since she asked so nicely – and since I still was not used to kindness down here – I thought about her question for a little while. 

“Bob is a person with a very displeasing name.”

“Yeah, there you go – that’s a start! Good! What else?”

“Bob would have liked to have picked another name, but no. He did not. He just had to go with Bob, because fate can be a cruel temptress like that.” 

“A cruel… temptress, huh? Uhhh… Can you tell me anything… _else_ about yourself?” Princess Charlotte grinned helplessly. “Something that doesn’t have anything to do with your name, maybe?”

“How about this one then: I hate Alastor.” I stared at her. _“Extremely_ much so.”

“I – um, well, sure,” she said, scratching her head, “I mean, Al has many enemies that hate his guts, so I’m not surprised he apparently has wronged you as well…”

 _“Wronged_ me?” My eyes darkened and I scoffed. “Your Highness, he did _more_ than just ‘wrong’ me. Believe me. Nothing would please me more than to see him suffer and go down in the _worst_ kind of way.”

“Huh…” she said.

The remains of my plucked wings stung harshly underneath its bandages, reminding me of all the misery Alastor had put me through, and I grimaced. 

“I would like to see him squirm and beg for sweet death to release him from his troubles.”

“Okay – venting is good, just… throw it all out, I guess…”

“I do not belong here,” I then blurted out. “This is not where I am supposed to be.”

“But you _do_ belong here.”

I snapped my head up at that and for the first time, I actually looked the princess in the eyes. She had quite the unusual eye color – namely _none,_ for her eyes were black. Another sign that she was not an ordinary person, but a bordering-on-immortal being that was hanging somewhere in-between angelic and demonic, keeping her gene-specific heritage in mind.

The princess silently returned my gaze, and there was not a single sign of her initial nervousness to notice anymore. She did not tremble, nor fidget, and she calmly focused her undivided attention on me, waiting for me to say anything in response to that. 

“Excuse me – what did you say?” I was certain my eyeballs would roll out of their respectable sockets if I spread my eyes open any more. “You know almost nothing about me, and yet you are already sure I _belong_ in Hell? ”

“That’s right,” Princess Charlotte easily admitted.

“Is it because I spoke badly about your lover?” I searched her face to see if something like shock or anger would flash over it. “Kind of a petty reason to say I belong in Hell, do you not agree?”

“Let me ask you something: if you would get the perfect chance, would you kill Alastor?” The princess, not taking the bait, remained placid and her neutral stare never faltered. “Would you, Bob?”

I felt myself nodding, almost automatically. “Right away. With no hesitance.”

“Killing somebody, or _wanting_ to kill somebody, is a _sin,_ Bob. No matter what the reasoning behind it is. You’ve been boiling with this seething rage all this time - I know you have. I’m sorry for that... but that, too, might just be the reason for why you are _here,_ sadly enough. You should try to accept that.” 

My lifeless eyes – they widened themselves in realization, if possible, even moreso than before.

My bad thoughts, my spiteful mood, my aggressive feelings, my hatred towards everything and everyone that had wronged me… 

Were all of those signs that I _belonged_ in Hell? 

But I was an Angel. I could not belong here. 

Could I?

“Oh, but – don’t you worry!” Princess Charlotte hastily tried to comfort me when she saw something akin to panic appear on my pale, scarred face, beaming a huge smile at me, “it’s okay! You were hurt, right?”

Wordlessly, I nodded once more. 

She continued: “You were damaged and you’ve been in pain for God knows how long. You have _every right_ to be mad and angry, Bob, because you’re not alone. Many people feel like you do. And that’s why it was so good of you to come to my hotel. This is the right place for you – I promise you it is! You can _fix_ you – you can fix _Bob!_ And I will help you with that!”

Again, I could not comprehend.

No matter how I looked at this blonde woman, even now that I had allowed myself to like her, she absolutely seemed to be nothing but an innocent, naive _damsel_ – one that would have to be rescued by a knight in shining armor, once somebody had come along and captured her.  
  
Though her words revealed to me that there was _so much more_ wisdom inside of her – more than one would think. There was something inexplicitly mature and – may I say – _fearless_ about her. Perhaps it was due to her surprising old age, or maybe all those years of being bullied and picked on had harnessed her heart, but in the _best_ and most _positive_ way possible. 

Whatever it was, one thing was for sure: in just this one, awkward, bumbling therapy session, I had learned more about Alastor’s special someone than I had imagined I would – and I had seen what _goodness,_ what kind of rare _purity_ she possessed. 

She indeed was the closest thing to a saint Hell had to offer.

Hence why it was such a shame she was not fit for Heaven.

  
**BbB**

  
I had been planning to tell Alastor this news for a while now – and today, I was finally going to tell him.

After all, Princess Charlotte and I had that introduction-session on Monday – and ever since that particular little get-together, I had known that she was not suitable for Heaven. The sooner I let Alastor know, the more _gratifying_ it would be for _me,_ as I would gleefully watch the lunatic come to the brute conclusion that his plan had been nothing but a huge waste of time for _everybody_ involved.

 _That_ would show that damn _fiend!_

However, it was not easy to catch the Radio Demon all by himself, or so I had found out this week. I had kept a close eye on him, hoping to seize a moment in which I could be alone with him, but predictably, the attention-hogging demon was _constantly_ in company with others.

Well he was an arrogant radio host in his human life – what had I expected, really? 

I often found him picking a fight with that angry moth lady or bickering with the spider prostitute, but more than once, I also spotted him chatting away with the chagrined cat demon and/or ordering the one-eyed cleaning lady around. Whenever he was _not_ around these sinners, and had _not_ left the hotel, he was always – and I meant _always_ – at Princess Charlotte’s side.

When it was just the two of them, then, only _then,_ Alastor would lower most of his walls and turn into a man I did not recognize. He looked _nothing_ like that deranged psychopath I met and got to know well down in his friend’s torture chamber. 

No, during these times, he looked like a man he _could_ have been. He would still have this creepy and overbearing air about him, yes, but there was also a tangible _softness_ in him then, making him seem _kind, amiable_ and…

Almost _normal._

It was _such_ an unsettling sight. I could not bear to continue watching him, whenever he and his lover wandered around the hotel’s halls and rooms, talking happily about random topics and looking like any other ordinary couple in love. It confused me to no end. I did not think he would be able to peacefully walk hand in hand with somebody else and _not_ tear the hand right off its owner’s wrist in the end, and yet, I watched him do so often, _very_ often.

What a strange man he was.

And what a strange being Princess Charlotte was, too, for having that effect on him.

  
**BbB  
**

Ah, but I digressed.

So - catching Alastor all by himself was not an easy situation to strive for. Fortunately, I knew that on Sundays, things were a bit different. The princess, most of her staff and the sinners would stay in bed a lot longer than on other days – but Alastor would rise early and spend many hours in the kitchen, in order to cook up a truly marvelous warm buffet for the rest of the hotel’s inhabitants.

An _entire warm buffet_.

But do not read too much into it – he did not do this because he wanted to do something _nice_ for the sinners.

No. He just liked cooking.

He probably also wanted to show off his impressive cooking skills in front of the others, now that I was thinking about it _(especially_ in front of Princess Charlotte, who always was delighted with whatever he made for them), but primarily, he prepared his delicious breakfast/lunch buffets simply because he liked doing it.

All by himself.

All alone.

So when I woke up that morning and took note of the fact that it was Sunday, I wasted no time in lingering around in bed any longer.

It was _time._

  
**BbB**

  
In the ‘Happy Hotel’, it was common practice the sinners ate separately from the staff members. 

However, on Sundays, Alastor chose to ignore that unspoken rule, refuse to set the table in the kitchen as well and therefore _force_ the princess and her staff members to share a meal with the sinners in the main dining room. He would expertly prepare many different tables there, making sure the place looked inviting and, well, really spick and span. And then he would start cooking. 

Although the moth lady, who was the princess’ closest friend (I forgot her name, but I think it had something to do with vegetables) _greatly_ disliked this, Princess Charlotte herself _loved_ eating with her beloved sinners – two reasons that encouraged Alastor to diligently keep on preparing the tables in the main dining room every Sunday.

While I hated Alastor more than anything, I had to admit that he was a very skilled chef. He managed to make the most delectable meals with just a couple of ingredients, but he could also create complete full course dinners, or cook _haute cuisine_ if he wanted to. 

He also had this weird… well, let us call it _habit:_ every Sunday, there was another kitchen from somewhere around the world he would pick as his theme for the buffet – and today, by the looks and smell of it, it was the English one.

As soon as I walked into the main dining room, I knew I was right: a couple of big serving tables displayed the typical English flag and the well-known British dishes many humans – especially tourists! – loved so much. Plates with scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, sausages and fried toast were being briskly transported from the kitchen to the serving tables by these huge, black tentacles, while Alastor himself looked on from a distance, his back turned towards me.

I stood still for a moment, frowning as I stared at Alastor’s hands, neatly folded onto his back. There was something… _off_ about one of them. It seemed to have a strange spasm – and it was obvious something that caused him a fair amount of pain.

Oh.

_Oh._

Well. It looked like there was some _more_ bad news coming the sinner’s way, I believed. 

How _wonderful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This German folktale was collected and written down by the famous Brothers Grimm. It goes like this… 
> 
> Somewhere out there, there lived this young man with no redeeming qualities whatsoever… except for the fact he had no idea what's it like to be afraid. Longing to learn how to ‘shudder’, he heads out into the world – but the longer his adventure drags on, the more annoyed he becomes. For example, they tell him to spend the night underneath a hanging tree with seven corpses hanging from it… which he absolutely doesn’t mind doing, he even cuts them down and lays them by his campfire. But when they catch on fire, the boy gets fed up with them and hangs them back on the tree... _while the corpses are still on fire!_ Ultimately, the boy undergoes a series of terrifying, supernatural challenges in a king’s haunted house… although they never ARE terrifying to the boy, since he just gets irritated with the gruesome things that disturb his sleep. At the end of the story, the aloof young man is rewarded with gold and the princess’ hand in marriage. And while he eventually gets to know how to ‘shudder’ (his annoyed wife drenches him with ice-cold water one night, when he just keeps complaining about it), the boy never learns what "fear" truly is.


	3. The Fox and the Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will probably leave you with a very nasty taste in the mouth. Also, you may want to hunt me down and kick my butt. I'm… I'm really not looking forward to that!^^;;;
> 
> Still though: don't forget that this is just the beginning. There is more. More of many, _many_ good and bad things that have yet to come.
> 
> Uhm. So yeah! Have fun reading the chapter! 8DDDDDDD
> 
> _*silently retreats into the shadows*_

When I happened to glance down at the floor and noticed my shadow _wildly_ signaling at me, I realized I was no longer alone in the dining room. From the way my shadow acted, I _also_ concluded that this sneaky intruder wasn’t a simpleminded sinner that just happened to be awake and out and about already, but… a _special_ somebody.

A special somebody I greatly _detested._

My shadow didn’t make that disgusted face for nothing, after all!

Rolling my eyes, I heaved a sigh, leaned on my microphone stand and decided… hmm – yes, I’d give him… three seconds. That seemed to be fair enough.

One…

Two…

Three.

Nothing happened: no announcement, no clearing of the throat to let me know he was there – just nothing, nada.

Well then. We weren’t getting any younger now, were we! 

Without any warning, I snapped with my thumb and middle finger. As the sharp sound echoed throughout the spacious and otherwise lonely hall, I heard a sudden, startled gasp behind me – and when I looked at my side a mere second later, my condescending gaze met the listless, pale-blue orbs of Hakim. Oh, excuse me – _Bob._

“Well _good morning,_ my featherless friend!” I grinned, narrowing my eyes to little slits as I watched the Angel pry the dark, thick vines than had none-too-gently pulled him towards me off his wrists. “Did the smell of bacon and eggs lure you out of the comfortable confines of your bedroom or are you just an early bird? _Ha!”_

I harshly slapped the smaller being on his back, almost knocking the frail and weakened Angel over. He managed to avoid actually smacking down, though. A pity.

“Early bird! Ha ha! Did you get that joke, _Bob?_ Because you need to pretend to be some sort of bird demon while you’re staying here? Even though you don’t even _have_ any wings or other kinds of tuft to show for it? _Hilarious,_ don’t you say so? Comedy _gold!”_

The Angel didn’t answer my – admittedly rhetorical – question and straightened his back, resolutely not letting my patronizing laughter get the better of him. He looked around the room for a bit, in silence, finally stopping his peepers’ rapid movements when he eyed the serving tables and the truly _succulent_ food that was still being put onto it by my extra pairs of arms. Oh fine - my _tentacles._ There, I said it.

“I see the classic English kitchen is the theme for today’s breakfast. Or lunch. Either one of those,” Bob observed.

I cocked an eyebrow, intrigued by the way he curtly changed the conversation’s subject. I turned my attention to the serving tables as well.

“ _Neither_ breakfast or lunch, actually. You should call this English feast the second breakfast. All meals that are consumed _after_ a time that’s considered reasonable for breakfast and _before_ lunchtime, are called the second breakfast.”

“Is that so.”

“In a lot of countries in which they have four to five meals a day, it is so, yes.” 

“How come you know this?”

“Well.” I smirked. “Let’s just say I have a wide range of likes and interests.”

The Angel nodded, not even a hint of emotion visible on his heavily scarred features. “I have noticed. You are a jack of all trades, kind of. Apart from tormenting others and dragging people into your horribly selfish schemes, even the people you _love_ and clearly _value,_ you apparently also like literature, singing, dancing, cooking and music.”

I hummed noncommittal. I needed some time to think carefully about how and what to respond to that. It was difficult, for some reason – and it also didn’t help the wound on my hand was starting to act up again – but I refused to acknowledge it with him around.

“You could have been an admirable man in life, Alastor. You could have been a trustworthy librarian, a respectable chef, or even a famous musician. You, at the very least, could have been a good husband to a sweet partner of your own choice, and ultimately, you could have died in bed, of old age, surrounded by your friends and family. However, you chose to die young, as an arrogant radio host – as a serial killer that found his gruesome fate on a dark and stormy night, by the hands of an old hunter that felt _sorry_ for you. You know. Since his dogs were mauling you to pieces.” 

Bob abruptly looked up, straight at me, his stoic face unreadable.

“Such a shame.”

I was getting annoyed, as I always got when someone reminded me of my inelegant death, but I smiled broadly nevertheless. 

“Would you get to the point already, Bob? Why are you here? Do you need something from me?”

“I need to speak to you,” he said.

I clacked my tongue impatiently. “We _are_ speaking.”

“About something important.”

“Important, as in…?”

“Important as in Princess Charlotte.” While my interest was instantly piqued as soon as Charlie’s name had been spoken out, the Angel hesitated for a second. “And there is something I need to tell you about your _hand_ as well.”

Like it had been waiting for this moment, said hand twitched – and Bob saw, much to my dismay.

“It is painful, is it not?” He paused. “The Mark of the Fallen, I mean.”

I didn’t allow myself to flinch or answer him and found myself staring back at Bob, on guard. If I didn’t know any better, I could have sworn I heard something that sounded a lot like malice in his tone of voice.

“It is not supposed to hurt for such a long time,” Bob then remarked.

“It’s not?” I heard myself say.

“Aha.” Another vague look from him. “So you admit it hurts.”

Instead of frowning, my smile only stretched itself out wider. “Maybe.”

“Alright. I think I will already start having… what did you call it... ah, yes, second breakfast, if you do not mind.” 

All of a sudden, and without even taking any further notice of me, Bob approached the serving tables. The preperations for the many dishes, edibles and beverages were almost done now, thanks to my careful work.

Dumbfounded and _slightly_ on edge, I watched him take a few plates and put different kinds of bread, toast, meat, baked beans (yes, baked beans – the English liked their breakfast greasy and beany) and other fried things on them.

Well, talking about being caught between a rock and a hard place!

I couldn’t try and wring the answers to my many questions out of him (too risky, I might accidentally end up killing him in this weakened state he was in) and I found it beneath me to _kindly_ ask him to _please_ tell me this important news he was talking about…and so, I was getting more frustrated by the passing second.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to pick between these equally bad choices, as Bob soon returned from the food station – he had stacked _so_ many different kinds of food on his plates that I was rather impressed he was as skinny as he was – and he brusquely beckoned me to follow him to a table.

Since there wasn’t an alternative that wouldn’t make me look like either a childish idiot or a stubborn mule, I begrudgingly accompanied him to a small table for two, my radio audience muttering restlessly in the background as I did so.

  
**AaA**

  
When we sat down, I had to say I was quite amazed to observe how the Angel managed to not only practically _inhale_ all of the (mainly unhealthy) food he had gathered, but knew to do it in a remarkably _graceful_ manner, too. 

No matter how many edible things he had collected and how messy some of the plates ended up looking (he had put _beans_ and _toasts with marmalade_ on the same platter and the beans were starting to mix together with the marmalade, absolutely _disgusting),_ Bob was able to flawlessly handle his cutlery. He didn’t spill anything and took subtle little bites of his nightmare of a breakfast, bluntly stabbing a piece of bacon on his fork, first, before shoving it into a pile of mashed potatoes right after. And then he chowed it all down, in one go.

“Well then,” I muttered, cringing a bit when I watched _two entire eggs_ disappear into his mouth like it was nothing, “I’m delighted and quite flattered to see you’re enjoying the food I prepared so much, but my goodness, Bob, do they even _feed_ their Angels up there?”

“It is not that they do not give us enough food to eat,” Bob answered in-between a few bites, “but it is all the same, always. Nectar and ambrosia, each day, every day. It is said to be the most divine food in existence, but it starts to get bland after a few eternities.”

“What do nectar and ambrosia taste like?”

“Nectar and ambrosia.”

“Yes, but – what do they taste like?”

“Nectar and ambrosia, you mean?”

“Yes?”

“Like nectar and ambrosia.”

I smiled and decided to stop asking, before I’d pop a vein and start throwing butter knives at him.

“But anyway, Bob.” I coughed and folded my hands together, looking at the eating Angel on the other side of the small, round table. “You said you had something important to tell me, about Charlie?” 

He nodded, but avoided my gaze and instead studied a large sausage with honey slathered onto it (oh my _goodness)_ carefully. 

“I hate to admit it, but you were right about her. Princess Charlotte truly _is_ a very charming lady. Friendly, understanding, patient, righteous… she is almost saint-like, in comparison to most of the people I have seen down here so far.”

I beamed a big, proud grin his way. “It pleases me to hear that!”

 _“Atrocious_ taste in partners, though.”

“Oh tell me about it: you should _see_ some of the scum she has been in a relationship with before. Good thing she eventually ended up with _me_!”

I laughed, loudly and heartily – but Bob didn’t seem to appreciate my glee.

“You think you are funny?” He shot me a piecing look. “You think you _are_ suitable for her? You, the insane, violent _fool_ that misled her, her friends and allies – and shamelessly _used_ their kindness and trust in him for his own goals? Have you told her already, about what you have planned for her?”

I had to struggle to keep my smile intact and I was rather impressed by myself that I actually succeeded in doing so.

“It’s all for her own good.”

Bob shook his head. “You’re _despicable.”_

“My. Bold of you to assume I care about your opinion of me.” I sighed and began to thrum my long fingers on the table’s cloth. This was getting uninteresting fast. “Please don’t tell me you only wanted to talk to me because you wanted to let me know how much you hate me. For I already _know_ you do. And that’s perfectly fine by me. Since I hate _you,_ too.”

I couldn’t help but glare at him – the has-been Angel Hakim, now named Bob, the one who had cursed me. The cretin that made me drastically change my original plans. In hindsight, I should have killed him when I had the chance back then. There would be other Angels, after all, I didn’t need to have _him_ specifically as Charlie’s assessor… 

But it was too late for that, now.

“Do not worry – telling you I despise you was on the house.” Bob took a long sip of his orange juice. “No, the _real_ reason why I needed to speak to you is concerning Princess Charlotte’s chances to go to Heaven.”

“Go on,” I slowly said.

“There are basically none.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well.” The Angel gently patted his lips with the napkin bound around his neck. “It is not looking good for her, I am afraid.”

What?

I blinked.

What?

What was he saying?

_**What?** _

A mild feeling of anguish, dread and sheer shock was quickly building up inside of me. I stared at the Angel with my frozen smile slowly changing into something maniacal, something even less pleasant than a fake smile, and I found myself gripping the table’s surface so harshly there were getting cracks in its material. 

“What do you mean, ‘ ** _it’s not looking good for her_** ’?” I asked, my voice distorted and buzzing forebodingly.

Bob – who had been looking fairly smug, even without his emotions – didn’t even _grimace_ as demonic symbols twirled around his head and my black tentacles insistently wrapped themselves around his limbs. 

“Are you telling me – she’s _unable_ to get into Heaven? Are you telling me I did all of this – the scheming, the lying, the scars, the planning and the pain, _**all of this**_ – for _**nothing** **?”**_

Bob made no effort to try and struggle himself out of the heap of vines – but he did let out a short gasp as they now rounded themselves around his thin neck as well.

“If that’s true,” I continued, not moving a muscle as Bob’s choking noises started to become more and more obnoxious, “if it’s _truly_ not looking good for Charlie – _**then it’s not looking good for you, either**_.”

“Then just kill me, why not,” Bob then croaked out, sweat pearling on his forehead – but he himself still looked me dead in the eyes, even as the dark, slithering feelers continued tightening themselves around his feeble body. “Go on right ahead. I got nothing to lose anyway. Besides, what harm can it do, hiding one more extra secret… from your… precious princess…?”

He was right.

Killing him would mean hiding yet _another_ thing from Charlie… and as skillful as I was in lying, I didn’t want to add yet another secret to the already imposing pile of white lies I had silently built up over the last couple of months.

So with a grunt, I released him – and the Angel fell back in his chair, gripping his throat, breathing in and out in ragged wheezes of air.

I ignored his antics and stared off into the distance. 

Charlie was not fit for Heaven.

The most angelic being here in Hell, the one that deserved Paradise more than anybody else – she had to stay here.

My heart ached and without thinking, I squeezed my chest.

What now?

What was I supposed to do _now?_

  
**AaA**

  
It took a couple of minutes – maybe even more than ten minutes – but eventually, the dull droning noise that kept on ringing through my ears lessened, and I was able to catch a few words Bob was saying. Something about a burdened heart, doubts, insecurity and distrust… and I suddenly snapped out of my daze.

I turned my head up so fast it cracked, as it usually did, just in time to see Bob calmly cutting off a piece of fried bread, like nothing life-threatening had happened to him at all.

“What was that, Bob?”

Bob admittedly winced a bit at my sudden outburst, but then he composed himself once more and pricked the bread piece on his fork. His grip didn’t shake and he wasn’t even a _little_ bit upset anymore – a sign that the torture-routine Rosie had put him through had made him aloof and absolutely uncaring about his own well-being.

“I was saying that there is too much bothering Princess Charlotte at the moment. I have talked with her and I have studied her for a couple of weeks, and I can _assure_ you that there are too many things that burden and disturb her good heart – things that therefore will keep her _here,_ in Hell.”

“What kind of things?” I wanted to know. 

He eyed me tiredly. “You _know_ what kind of things, Alastor.”

“No, I don’t.”

 _“Yes,_ you _do._ Think about it.” Bob dryly chewed and swallowed a few more bits of food. Again, considering the fact I had almost strangled him to death just a few moments ago, this was kind of morbidly hilarious. 

Meanwhile, I knitted my eyebrows together. Things that bothered Charlie, things that bothered Charlie... What were the things that bothered Charlie? When was the last time I had even _asked her_ what bothered her?

Hints of possible emotions that all had something to do with astonishment were written on Bob’s face as he watched me break my head over the question. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. 

“Unbelievable. You are her _lover_ – you are supposed to _know_ this,” he said disapprovingly. “Fine – for Princess Charlotte’s sake, I will give you some hints. For starters, there are _three_ problems that disrupt the princess’ heart and mind, making it impossible for her to ascend to Heaven.”

“I’m listening,” I said.

“Hint for the first problem: it has got something to do with her self-confidence.”

“What’s wrong with her self-confidence?”

“The fact that she barely has any of it.”

“Oh. Well, that’s inconvenient.”

“Very.”

“Why _doesn’t_ she have more self-confidence, though? That makes no sense!” Honestly, I was surprised. “She has accomplished _so much_ and she is working _so very hard_ to make her dreams become reality, it’s bordering on _ridiculous!_ Why, _everybody_ can see it – and everybody here appreciates her for it, too! Perhaps this wasn’t so in the beginning, and I’m aware that outside of the hotel, lowlifes are still mocking her, but the miserable sinners in the hotel _are_ seeing her as the righteous, goodhearted princess she is! And she _knows_ this! She’s _proud_ of this!”

The Angel raised his shoulders in a shrug. “To be fair – this first problem does not have much to do with her status in Hell. She has pretty much accepted that there always will be demons and what-nots that will ridicule her, and for her, it is enough that the people in the hotel are devoted and grateful to her. No, the first problem is, in fact, directly related to the _other_ two problems that are bothering her.”

“Well then let’s hear what these other problems are.” 

“The hint for the second problem Princess Charlotte is struggling with,” Bob carried on, sticking two fingers up in the air, “well... it's her parents – and especially the dangerously resentful feelings she harbors for them. Does that ring a bell?”

I realized what he meant, felt my mouth fall open a bit and nodded.

Charlie never had a very great relationship with the King and Queen of Hell, and ever since the Angel Arrangement had happened, their bond had only become more strained and problematic. Furthermore, Lucifer and Lilith didn’t like me one bit and didn’t even try to hide it. This was very cumbersome: although I had consequently _denied_ her parents playing an important part in my almost-but-not-quite-planned-death, and although I saw Charlie really _wanted_ to believe me, she… well, she _didn’t._

I _knew_ she didn’t believe me. She was acutely aware of her parents’ obvious hatred towards me and she saw a suspicious connection between Hakim’s appearance and my disappearance at the park back then as well. Why, she had even stopped calling her mother at night. 

Conclusion: she didn’t trust her mother and father at all anymore. She might even had started downright _hating_ them. 

Truth be told, I didn’t care all that much about the King and Queen of Hell and I wouldn’t mind it one bit if Charlie would cut all ties and never meet up or talk to her meddlesome parents again... but clearly, this did not appear to be the right mindset. 

Bob, _still_ not finished with his plates, paused from savoring an oatcake and gave me a questioning look. “Ready for the hint concerning the last and most crucial problem that has been on Princess Charlotte’s mind?”

“I suppose so,” I said.

“Good.” He pointed with his fork into my direction. “It is _you.”_

Something thick started blocking my throat and I unwittingly touched my neck, while my disgustingly fragile heart anxiously bounced around in my ribcage. 

“It – can’t be that she doesn’t love me anymore. That thought alone is just silly nonsense! Ha ha! Right? _Right_?” 

“Oh no, she loves you, alright. Very much so. I cannot wrap my head around it. I mean, has she ever _looked_ at you? You are a _horror_ to behold.” 

I immediately relaxed, silently reprimanded myself from doubting Charlie’s love for me for even just a _moment,_ and refrained from replying to Bob’s childish jab below the belt. 

“Is she afraid I don’t love _her_ anymore, then?” I asked him instead.

“Alastor, even a _blind man_ can see how much you adore and worship her. You are prepared to give her up to Heaven. You are ready to _lose_ her, just so she can be where she should be, according to you. Frankly spoken, your love for her is the _only_ redeemable thing you have going for you – hence why that one eye of you will not change back into its red predecessor.” Bob put his fork down again. “But that is the point. She loves you, and she knows you love her, too. However, in spite of all that, you will _not_ tell Princess Charlotte what you are hiding from her. What has been bothering _you._ And that is getting to her.”

I kept silent and involuntarily, my thoughts drifted back to last night. How Charlie had tried to coax me into telling her my troubles. How I had dismissed her. How sad she had looked and sounded this morning, while hoping she had done something, _anything,_ to ease my troubled mind.

_“How comes that whenever I want to make you feel good… it always ends with you making me feel good?”_

I had no idea this troubled her _that_ much.

Bob summarized it: “So in short, the princess cannot go to Heaven because her heart is heavy with black shadows and painful insecurities – and both the tense relationship with her parents _and_ the lack of trust she feels for her lover _and_ the distrust she feels you have of _her_ are to blame for that.”

“But those problems can be solved,” I quickly said, as I noticed more sinners were walking into the dining room. “These troubles that are bothering my darling – they can be overcome! Isn’t that so?”

Bob had been about to drink the last bit of his juice and batted his eyes up, thinking about my assumption. He rubbed his chin and, in the end, gave me a small, affirmative nod

“It... is not _impossible.”_

“So – there’s still hope?” I raised from my chair and leaned over the table, almost knocking over a vase in the process. “If Charlie manages to mend her bond with her parents – and if I let her know I _do_ trust her and that she can trust _me_ in turn, too – she _will be_ suitable for Heaven?”

“If this will wipe away the uncertainty and darkness I have felt in her heart, then yes.” Bob nodded again and furrowed his brows upon seeing my huge grin. “You seem confident. You _do_ realize these problems are _not_ as easily fixed as it may sound to you and that this is going to be _very_ difficult for her, do you not? It is not without its risks. She can permanently scar her heart if things do not go so well. She can get consumed by the hatred and slumbering demons inside of her. Do you understand what that could mean? What could _happen?”_

I hand-waved his comment away and pulled out a pocket watch, my interest in continuing our conversation fading as swiftly as the food the hungry sinners were now snatching off the serving tables. After all, now that I knew what had to be done to get Charlie into Heaven, Bob wasn’t interesting at all anymore. 

Also, it was past eleven o’clock now. Charlie usually would get out of bed around this time on Sundays and then she and I would enjoy breakfast together – hence why I hadn’t eaten anything yet.

“Things will work out in the end – I’ll make sure they will,” I told the Angel, as I got up from my chair and neatly shoved it back towards the table.

“You are going to help her?” Bob asked. 

“I can’t?” I countered absentmindedly, looking around the lively chamber to see if Charlie had entered it already.

“You can – as long as Princess Charlotte is the one who will make the development, you can do whatever you can to help her out. I doubt you will have enough time for that, though.”

I stopped looking around to sneer haughtily at Bob. “Not enough time? _Ha._ My dear _Bobbert,_ there still are at least five months left, more than _enough_ for Charlie to recover her bond with her parents and to regain her trust in me – you know, after I have told her about my secrets and critically jeopardized our relationship in the process!”

Oh.

Hmm. 

I had to admit that that last bit was going to be quite a thing, but it would all work out. It always did!

“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps five months _will_ be enough for the princess to get rid of the gloom and bitterness that is bothering her. There most likely will not be enough time for _you,_ though.”

Charlie just walked into the dining room – and if that one remark of Bob hadn’t made me curious, I'd have stepped away from him and forgotten about his existence all together, right away. Still, I didn’t, and I turned to Bob one last time.

“You think five months won’t be enough for me?” I scoffed.

“You will not _have_ five months.” 

Bob also stood up, having finally finished his breakfast as well, and put his napkin down on his plate. Then he made an offhand gesture towards my hand, that still held on to the pocket watch. 

“Since you are dying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fox and a cat are discussing how many tricks they know. While the fox boasts about all of his many wonderful qualities and traits, the cat must confess he only has one talent. The fox laughs at the cat, ridiculing the feline and telling him he could learn a thing or two from him.  
> Then, hunters arrive with their dogs… _dangerous_ dogs, who will definitely try to attack the two animals – and the cat is quick to react and hop into the nearest tree.  
> “This is my single talent,” the cat calls down to the fox. “Climbing into trees, away from any oncoming danger. Now show me one of those so-called amazing tricks of _yours_ , Fox!”  
> But instead of acting, the fox can’t decide on what to do and keeps thinking of different ways to escape the dogs, resulting in the dogs getting him. As the rabid beasts tear the arrogant fox apart, the cat looks on from the tree, scornfully mocking him: “Where are your talents _now_ , Fox? Why aren’t you using them? _Do_ use your talents, Fox!” 
> 
> ‘The Fox and the Cat’ is a fable credited to the (allegedly very ugly) Greek slave and storyteller Aesop (c. 620 BCE – c. 564 BCE). There are also versions of this tale in which the cat is replaced by a hedgehog, or a crane, or a squirrel, or a dove. The unfortunate fox, however, is always a fox.


	4. The Little Mermaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an insufferable heatwave going on at my place. Starting from last Friday, temperatures have been around 36 degrees Celsius (or 96.8 degrees Fahrenheit) pretty much _non-stop_ and… well, I'm just no good with this extremely hot weather.^^;;; It hasn't been easy, but hey: at least I still have two more weeks of vacation left, before schools are starting again! Also: airconditioners. Got to love those things. XDDD 
> 
> But anyway, now that that's off my chest, time to gush about something awesome that [Chisena](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt) created: she actually went and made some wonderful designs of the Angel Hakim/Bob! Check them out [here](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1293476166544707586)! <3 <3 <3
> 
> After last week's entry, some people might be wondering what comes next. Well - Charlie and some nice moodswings, of course! Charlie makes everything better, after all. Well - she _tries_ to, in any case.^^
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

Oh my _god,_ it was an _English breakfast!_

I gasped. I couldn’t believe my eyes (or nose!) when I got into the main dining hall and took note of the royally filled serving tables, _loudly_ declaring their English-ness with recognizable flags and other adorable pieces of decoration – and there even was old-fashioned, tacky tableware! With big, fat flowers painted on them and stuff!

It was all so stuffy and corny and I _loved it_!

I clapped my hands in excitement, greeted a few of the hotel’s sinners who had noticed me coming into the room and started making my way over to the food, while looking around me to see where Alastor was. 

He usually was standing next to his serving tables, his back straightened, gloating from ear to ear, impatiently waiting for me to pop up. And when I _did_ pop up, he’d grab my arms and giddily show me all his home cooked meals and other carefully prepared food. He’d be like a little child that had drawn something cute and was now hoping that a family member would praise him for his diligent work. 

I’d indeed compliment him and if I felt bold enough, I’d also snag him by his collar and smooch him silly. He’d make a weird little noise, but happily let it happen. 

By the way, the sudden smooching pretty much _always_ occurred when I was having my… uhm… period, since he then made sure the tables were overflowing with all kinds of sweet goodness. 

_“You’re having your monthly bloody party again this week, aren’t you? Does it hurt? No? Well good! Here are chocolate sprinkles and there you have some fruity jams and expertly-picked strawberries for you, to put on your bread and toast! Oh, and you probably want to have some freshly-made healthy, yet sacchariferous carrot juice to wash it all down with, too! Also, do let me know if it does start to hurt. I know a very effective tea-blend that will help you get rid you of that!”_

I-I mean… 

That was just…

So _nice._ So very, very _sweet._ I felt my heart swell up from the thoughtfulness of it all and I giggled, hugging my arms gleefully.

I continued walking – with a slight skip in my step, not going to lie. When I reached the serving tables and took another good look around me, I didn’t see Alastor standing near it, much to my surprise… but I _did_ see him standing close to a table further up ahead, his back turned my way while he was having an engaging conversation with another sinner. Well – it sure _looked_ like an engaging conversation, in any case.

I first felt a bit proud of Al – aww, just look at him, having small-talk with another person without even threatening to steal their soul! 

However, after I had grabbed some food and made my way to where Alastor was, I thought something was… _weird_ about it. 

The conversation he was having with the sinner looked a lot more intense and serious than I had initially thought – and I instantly got a very bad feeling about it all when I recognized Bob, one of the hotel’s newest clients. Al was talking to _Bob,_ of all people?

But Bob didn’t like Al. And I knew Al didn’t like Bob, either. So why the hell were they talking to each other? Heck, why were they even _breathing_ so close to one another?

Well, I guess I was about to find out.

  
**CcC**

  
I cautiously approached the two talking men, hoping my voice wouldn’t be too shrill or high-pitched when I spoke up.

“Uhm – good morning!”

The mysterious communication between Al and Bob was _immediately_ halted – and I instinctively jumped when Alastor suddenly _whirled_ around, kept twirling for a little while, and finally stopped spinning when he put the stand of his microphone down with a violent _thwack_ to the marble flooring.

_Bang!_

“And a _very_ good morning to you, too, my precious, personal ray of sunshine!” Alastor powerfully proclaimed, making several startled sinners in the room turn their heads towards us. “I see you have gotten out of bed as well! How lovely! And you even got yourself something to eat, too! Ha ha! Isn’t that just _great,_ Bob? Where are you – ohh, _there_ you are, you slippery sinner, you!”

Al threw an arm around Bob’s neck – who was indeed trying to sneak away, but failed miserably – and pulled him back, grinning broadly. 

“Say good morning to my dearest sweetheart, Bob!”

Bob frowned deeply, but gave me a nod anyway. “Good morning, Princess Charlotte.”

“Uhm... yeah, h-hello Bob – it’s _Charlie,_ by the way... We talked about this, remember?” I reminded him, smiling faintly as I checked both Bob and Alastor’s faces in turns. “By the way – uhm – is everything alright here, guys?”

“Why _of course_ ,” Al said, finally releasing the other sinner with a chuckle. “Everything is _peachy,_ my love! Simply _hunky-dory_! I’m _dying_!”

Bob and I gave him a perplexed look.

“Yes! You heard _that_ right! I'm dying! Dying... to find out just what you think of all this food I prepared for you and the hotel’s worthless scum!” Al laughed and enclosed his sharp hands around my shoulders in a somewhat painful way, pushing me and Bob to a table. He then pulled two chairs back and urged us to sit down (he might have urged Bob a bit too forcefully, since I heard his chair _creak_ a bit), before bending down to me and pinching my cheek.

“My goodness, just _look_ at you! You look positively _radiant_ today, my dear! Very very very very beautiful! I might even scream!”

I stared at him, rubbing my now-throbbing face. I noticed there was a little too much gum going on in his wide grin – way too much for it to be real or at least well-meant.

“Al—” 

He interrupted me. “ _Now_! I’ll go grab some grub as well! Why don’t you two mingle for a little bit! I’ll be back in a jiffy!” 

He was practically _sprinting away_ before I could even _try_ to say anything, leaving me and the grumpy bird demon by ourselves, in total and complete confusion. 

  
**CcC**

  
O-okay…

I had _no_ idea how long Al would take before he’d be back, and I didn’t really want to deal with an uncomfortable silence right now, so I turned to look at Bob, began to fidget with my hair and smiled sheepishly at him.  
  
“Sooo… I see you and Alastor are on speaking terms?”

“We are,” Bob replied.

“Uhm… oh, hey, don’t you want to go get some breakfast as well?”

“I already ate about ten plates.”

“Wha – _ten plates_?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. O-okay. Wow. That’s a lot!”

“Yes.”

“Huh…”

“Please do not misunderstand though. I merely ate what was _on_ the plates. Not the plates _themselves_.”

“Yeah, I – I kind of figured out _that_ much, Bob…”

Bob didn’t say anything anymore, he just stared into the distance. 

In response, I took my anxious fiddling to a whole new level and now started to twiddle not only my thumbs, but _all_ of my fingers. 

Oh _god,_ the uncomfortable silence – _there_ it was! There was no escaping from it!

Crap. I pursed my lips and desperately tried to think of something, _anything_ to talk to Bob about, but since I was too dazed by Alastor’s (believe it or not) _unusual_ hysterical behavior, my mind was a blank. Just what was going on here, why was Al acting so strange and what had Bob to do with all of this? I mean, why did Al want to have Bob sit at our table in the first place? He barely allowed _anybody_ to join me and him for breakfast on Sundays, so why was he now making an exception - for _Bob,_ of all people?

“What is that?” I heard Bob ask and when I looked up, I saw him pointing at my hands. I had to process his words for a bit, but then I realized he was talking about the red cord, tied around my ring finger.

I smiled, relieved there was something we could talk about, and raised the hand with the cord up, just a little. 

“Oh, this? It’s – um, well, it’s a bookmarker.”

“A bookmarker. Around your finger.”

“Yep!”

“But your finger is not a book.”

“Um… no, it isn’t. I mean, obviously, ha ha…”

He glanced up to my face. “He has a bookmarker tied to his finger as well.”

“Al, you mean? Uhm, yes, he has.” I cleared my throat and pushed some of my hair behind my ear. “It’s… just a little something between the two of us, nothing you should be worried about.”

Bob kept looking at the red string like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. Then his cold eyes sought contact with mine yet again, which kind of made me freeze. There just was something unsettling about Bob. 

“I had wanted to ask you this sooner, but are you planning on marrying that fool?” he asked, out of the blue.

My heart skipped a beat and I felt my face was getting red. “Wow. I – I guess it kind of shows, huh?”

Bob nodded. “The red thread of fate, or marriage. It is a well-known belief in East Asia: two lovers that are connected to each other by an invisible red thread are destined to always be together. The cord that bounds them together may tangle and may stretch out, but it can never break. You two took it a bit literally, I see.” 

I grinned bashfully - I couldn’t help it. I had heard about this legend as well, after all, and I’d be lying if I claimed those kind of thoughts _hadn't_ gone through my head, when I had tied the red bookmarker (that's right, it was even _red!)_ around Alastor’s ring finger. 

“It’s something like that, yes.”

“I do not understand.” Bob shook his head. “You seem to be a fairly intelligent woman. Someone who has seen her share of unredeemable sinners and hopeless maniacs. And yet – you still fell in love with _that man_ , and you are even willing to eventually marry him.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Even though you _know_ about his past. You _know_ what kind of person he is. You _know_ what he is capable of.” His orbs seem to darken. “You _know_ you _do not know_ everything.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it again. Searching for the right words to say, I rubbed my arm and avoided Bob’s gaze.

Time passed slowly, but Bob was patient – and Al took a long while to return. So I had more than enough time to think about how to respond to the stern, aloof sinner on the other side of the table.

Finally, I straightened my back and raised both my face as well as my voice.

“I get what you're trying to say, Bob. And you're right. Alastor’s done so many things wrong when he was still alive, it’s _sickening._ He can be awful – terrible, downright _terrifying_ even, and he’s probably more than able to take over most of Hell, if he had such crazy ambitions. He can’t be redeemed. I realize that, now. I’m… also aware that there are still many things I don’t know. Things he… hasn’t told me yet, quietly hides away from me. However, I can’t help it. I agree with you, Bob, I do: Alastor is not a good man, not at all. He’s mean, and mysterious, and keeps his distance. But in the end, he still chose to give me his heart.” 

I sighed and let out a soft chuckle.

“You see, Bob, I’ve seen his _humane_ side. I’ve seen him getting excited about books, just like a _regular_ person would get giddy about a hobby. I’ve felt a vulnerable _warmth_ in his harsh, aggressive touch to my hand – a warmth so soft, so gentle and so _desperate_ I was afraid he would accidentally _kill it_ before he’d even become fully aware of it. However, when he finally gave in to his feelings for me, he didn’t hold back. He gave me _all_ of them – every single bit of love his wary, sheltered, faulty heart could muster to share. Unabashed. Unashamed. He – did things for me _nobody_ had _ever_ done for me before and he overcame obstacles and insecurities he otherwise wouldn’t even have _thought_ about overcoming.”

Since Bob didn’t try to interrupt me, I didn’t stop.

“He – he makes me feel like I’m _worth_ something. Like there is nothing in Hell that could prevent me from reaching whatever goal I want to reach, even if he doesn’t always agree with me. He’s the biggest, most _annoying,_ most _tiresome_ critic I have in my life, laughing at every step I take on the road to making this hotel of mine a success – but he’ll passionately cheer me on all the way, always pull me back up when I fall down, hold me close when I feel like crying and he… he _believes_ in me. Not in my cause, per se, but in _me._ One hundred percent. And that is more than I could ever wish for.”

“Don’t forget to mention he also allowed you to fuck his sacred virgin dick, toots,” Angel Dust casually remarked, passing by our table with a couple of half-eaten plates.

While my wonderfully mature, serene and calm mood was _instantly_ shattered and I started to sputter incomprehensible things, clasping my burning-hot face in a weak attempt to cool it down, Bob made a simple statement.

“So you truly love him.” 

“I-I do!” I said, grateful he didn’t pay Angel’s comment any mind.

“I see.” Bob made a face that almost – just _almost_ – resembled an emotion. “How tragic.”

I felt a sinking feeling in my chest. For some reason, his stoically spoken words had a foreboding ring to them. But why was that – Bob was just another sinner! Or… did he know something I didn’t? I moved my tongue over my dry lips, watching Bob frown and twist his mouth, and I was about to ask him what he meant – _what_ was tragic, _what_ made him look like _that,_ when—

“Well _hello again_ , dear table companions! I have returned, ha ha!”

I almost fell from my chair when a plate with toast, marmalade and what-not was suddenly _smacked down_ on the table. Alastor had indeed returned from the serving tables at last, and he now noisily sat down on the chair next to me, still oozing all of this raw, chaotic, wild energy that somehow was different from his… _normal_ raw, chaotic, wild energy.

As Al hummed a little song and neatly spread a clean napkin on his lap (and as Bob started to hiss and lower himself in his chair, doing his best to become invisible), I gave him a worried look.

“Are you okay, Al?”

Without thinking, I touched his arm – and he reacted like a wasp had stung him, flinching and cutting _right through_ the plate. With a _spoon,_ not to mention!

“Why I’m _dead_ certain everything’s a-okay, my dear!” he said, shooting me another grin. “ _Perish_ the thought something would be wrong with me, right, Bob? Good ol’ _Bobbert_? He absolutely _despises_ it when you call him Bobbert, Charlie. Give it a go! Ha ha!”

“Could I leave now?” I noticed Bob was talking to _me,_ not Al – he was too busy ignoring Al (or at least _trying_ to do so). “Please let me leave, Your Highness.”

I nodded. Maybe Al would calm down a little and tell me why the heck he was acting so weird after Bob had left, I reasoned.

But Alastor didn’t have _any_ of that and shook his head. “Oh no, _no no no_ , not so fast, you’re not giving up the ghost _now,_ dear Bob! You’re not done for, yet!” 

Bob rolled his eyes, as if Al had told him a really cheesy pun, and I felt I was getting fed-up with Alastor’s theatrics. 

“ _Yes_ , you can leave, Bob, of _course_ you can! And I’m sorry for his behavior.” I then turned to Alastor. “Will you _stop_ it already? He has finished his breakfast and he clearly doesn’t want to sit here anymore – mostly thanks to _you,_ really! Just let him be!”

I didn’t snap often at Alastor and it wasn’t something he was used to, either. That’s why I could tell a perplexed, _baffled_ panic was building up rapidly inside of him. His fake smile began to shake and falter and his movements became even _more_ erratic and grotesque.

“But – all this succulent food, Charlie – isn’t it just great to enjoy it _together,_ in the company of **_friends,_** like ** _this_** —”

_Smack._

The short, yet fierce slap was heard by all in the dining room and everyone fell silent as I blinked – and felt my hurt nose started dripping a warm, thick fluid down my mouth and chin.

He hadn’t done it on purpose – I know he hadn’t – but Alastor had still smacked me right in the face with his exaggerated gestures, the hard impact of his clenched fist against my nose causing it to bleed uncontrollably. 

Alastor stared at me, his face white and bewildered, his smile paralyzed with shock. I could hear that invisible radio audience of his gasp out loud, jeering at their host in utter disgust.

I quickly realized I should let him know I was okay, before he went full-radio static (I already noted the increasing screeching of white noise surrounding him) – but when I tried to say something, I only managed to spit blood all around me, on my clothes and on my food. It even caused a few nearby sinners to faint on the spot. Oh geez, he had hit me harder than I thought!

“Did you just fucking _hit her_ ,” an _enraged_ Vaggie all of a sudden yelled through the room, her exclamation and accusation cutting through the tension like a white-hot knife, and bringing a totally thunderstruck Alastor back to his senses.

“I…”

I shot up from my chair. “Calm down Vaggie, it was an accident!”

Standing up for Al was the right thing to do, sure… but all the blood that trickled down my face was now slowly but surely coloring my white shirt red in the most horrific kind of way, which _didn’t_ exactly _help,_ and when the murmuring in the room was getting louder, I didn’t really know what to do next, either.

Until Bob flung a crumpled up napkin into Alastor’s face and pointed to the door to the kitchen, over his shoulder. 

“If you do not wish to make matters worse, _get her out of here_.”

Without saying a word or even batting his eyes, Al grabbed me by the waist, tucked me under his arm and _ran_ for the kitchen door, as fast as he could, while I helplessly dangled in the air, clumsily holding my nose, bleeding all over the place like there was no tomorrow.

Well, so much for relaxing Sundays!

  
**CcC**

  
As soon as we got into the kitchen, Alastor plopped me on top of a sideboard and collected a whole bunch of paper towels, before returning back to me – and pretty much _stuffing them_ right into my face. I stammered that yes I got it, _I got it, Al_ , and that he should _calm down_ already, but it wasn’t before he almost destroyed a dresser he kept accidentally bumping his head against during his rampage in the kitchen that he finally heard my voice.

“That’s _**enough,**_ Al!”

He stopped attempting to tear the poor dresser off the wall, took a few deep breaths, and, after a while, turned around to face me. He looked absolutely _mortified,_ so much that it was almost comical – I mean, nobody had passed away or anything, it wasn’t _that_ bad. Alastor did his best to evade my gaze and obviously didn’t know what to do with himself, standing there in the middle of the kitchen with a rigid smile and a random polka-dotted towel in his hands.

The towel gave me an idea though and I cleared my throat. 

“Can you put some water on that towel, Al? You know… to help me wash the blood off off me?”

“I can do that,” he finally – _finally!_ – said, and went to the kitchen sink. As Alastor held the towel underneath the pouring water, I used the paper towels to stuff my nose and wipe away as much blood as I was able to. It was a mess – god, I had no idea nosebleeds could get this awful and bloody! – but it was manageable, and by the time Alastor came back, I didn’t look all that ghoulish anymore. 

“You look ghoulish,” Alastor commented, as he – gingerly – took my chin in his hand and studied my face.

Oh.

Well what did I know?

“ _Good_ ghoulish or _bad_ ghoulish?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He rubbed the towel over the skin of my throat and cocked an eyebrow at me. “Charlie, my love, your nose is swollen and red, there’s blood all over you – even down your neck – and your clothes look like their owner has been pulled through a wringer of some sorts.”

“Good ghoulish it is,” I decided and flashed him a teasing smile. 

Alastor snorted and tried to ignore it, but I noticed my grin put him more at ease, and his stiff lips relaxed a little.

My smile softened as he finished cleaning up my face and neck and now reached for my bloodied hands. 

“Hey Al?”

“Hmm?”

I gently gripped the towel brushing over my hands. “I could go for a kiss.”

Al’s mismatched eyes flicked up again, meeting mine. “You want a kiss? _Now_?”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Very_ sure.” I tried to make my point extra clear by closing my eyes, puckering my lips and leaning more towards him.

I heard him choke out something that I think was a laugh. Then he gripped my chin once again, roughly wiped my mouth a few more times, probably to be sure there wasn’t any snotty blood left, and pressed his lips to mine. I felt he didn’t really put his heart into it, but that only motivated me to _do_ put effort in it – and when he started to move backwards, away from me, I simply moved forward with him. I even took hold of his face, keeping it still as I kissed him, and kissed him, and then kissed him some more, until he gave in with a shuddering sigh, shutting his eyes. His kisses grew slightly more passionate and he finally let me pull him flush against me, silently wrapping his arms around me.

I leaned back a bit, panting slightly. “It’s okay, Al.”

I caressed his jawline, my finger fluttering over his skin. He looked at me for a while with an incomprehensible expression, then pressed his lips together firmly and squished his face into the crook of my neck.

“Please forgive me, Charlie.”

“I just said it’s _okay,_ Al.” I put my arms around him reassuringly, stroking his back and fondling the top of his head. “It was just an accident. You didn’t mean to punch me in the face, you were just making those weird, grandiose gestures you like doing so much.”

“Accident or not, I still hurt you,” he muffled against my neck.

It tickled, so I wiggled around a little, still holding on to him. “Well yes, I mean, it was a fist to the nose, but – hey, it’s not the end of the world! It was just a stupid incident and nobody died, right?”

I laughed a bit, hoping that that would cause him to chuckle as well... but instead of chuckling, I felt Alastor was squeezing me tightly and started to breathe in and out in a really disturbing way – too fast, too puffy, too unnatural – and oh my god, he was hyperventilating, he was having another panic attack, yes – yes, that was a panic attack for sure, and I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the tension coming out? That would explain a lot, really. 

It wasn’t the first time Al forgot how to breathe the right way, so luckily, I knew how to handle this. Not wasting a single moment, I placed my hands on his shoulders, firmly shoved him off me, took one of his hands right after and pressed it against my chest.

“Easy now, Al – and look at me. Look at – yes, like that. I’m here. Just breathe with me, okay?” I kept my own hand on his, hoping he would feel the slow and steady heaving of my chest. “Slowly and deeply… inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Just like I do. Take your time.”

For the following five minutes, Al kept his glassy eyes, one of them looking like a frenzied radio dial, locked on mine. He did the best he could to copy my way of breathing. I just sat there and breathed in and out as smoothly as I could. It wasn’t easy – I freaked out a little as well whenever Alastor had one of these episodes – but I kept a surprisingly cool head, rewarding Al’s efforts with silly little squeezes to his shoulder. 

By the way, I had once read somewhere cupping a hyperventilating person’s mouth with your hands could help out as well, but when I had tried that one out a while ago – when a furious Al had started breathing funnily because Angel Dust had replaced all of his most cherished possessions with dildo’s and other funky sex toys – Al had almost bitten my hands off, so no way I was going to use that method anymore.

I could fix this, though.

I smiled and tenderly gripped Al’s pointy claw resting on my chest, trembling slightly but still holding on to me.

It was going to be alright. 

  
**CcC**

  
Eventually, Alastor calmed down enough to laugh shakily at some stupid jokes I told him (about how flattering it was I still managed to _take his breath away_ , about how _breezily_ he was handling this situation, how he didn’t put on any _airs,_ et cetera). That was a sign he was feeling better, so I beamed him a big grin and poked a finger into his cheek.

Only to become aware of something.

Hmm. I furrowed my brows, brushed away his hair and pressed a hand to his forehead.

Al didn’t protest, giving me a questioning look. “Is there something the matter?”

“You’re way too hot.”

“Oh _my,_ Charlie! Not in front of the kitchen utensils!”

I chuckled at that, happy to hear he sounded a lot more like himself, but then I got serious again.

“I think you’re running a fever, Al.” I felt my own forehead to check. “Yeah – you’re definitely running a fever. Sheesh, no wonder you’ve been acting so weird and nearly forgot to breathe– you’re getting _sick_!”

Alastor seemed lost in his own thoughts for a minute or so, but then his eyes were clear again and he helped me off the kitchen counter.

“Ahem. Yes – allow me to apologize for my rude behavior in the dining room as well. I – indeed was not feeling well.”

“You could have _told_ me, you know?” I huffed, putting my hands on my hips. “I knew something was off with you this morning – I smelled it, right when I woke up!”

Al folded his arms on his back and chortled. “Ha! You _smelled_ it? That’s _adorable_.”

I flushed, but didn’t get distracted for too long. “I – okay, maybe I didn’t exactly _smell_ it, but you know what I mean! And you better tell me next time you’re feeling bad, you hear? I know it’s important for me to rest, but – for the love of god, Al, you don’t need to sacrifice yourself for my sake!”

At that, Alastor seemed to have an answer at the ready. I saw he had – it was the way his pupils enlarged, the way his grin twitched. I gave him an encouraging look, curious, hoping he would tell me what was on his mind.

But in the end, Alastor simply shook his head with a somewhat sad smile, and took my hand in his.

“Ah – it’s nothing. Well then! Please escort me to bed, my darling, charming nurse.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mermaid saves a human prince from drowning to death and falls in love with him. Longing to be with him, she seeks help from the fearsome Sea Witch. The Witch says she’ll help her – but only in exchange for the mermaid’s tongue and beautiful voice. Also, she won’t be able to return to sea after the deal has been made. The mermaid agrees to the Witch’s terms. Excruciating painful moments later, the mermaid has lost her tail and has gotten legs instead. She is human now – or she at least will become one for real, if she manages to win the Prince’s love and marries him. The Prince finds her on the beach and lets her live with him, and although the mermaid is in constant pain because of her hurting feet, she is happy. But then tragedy strikes, as the Prince falls in love with another girl. The mermaid is heartbroken, but when her sisters, who sacrificed their long hair for her, offer their little sister a chance to escape her doom (by killing the Prince and his lover with a dagger), the mermaid refuses. At the break of dawn, she dives into the sea and dissolves into sea foam. She feels good, however, like a daughter of the air, and it is said that, after doing good deeds for mankind for 300 years, she will be able to obtain a soul and ascend to Heaven one day.
> 
> This is one of the most famous and beloved fairytales written by the Danish author Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875). Some people say Andersen wrote this story for a male friend of his he had fallen in love with, but could never be with. He even (kind of) confessed to the man in a letter and sent him this story!


	5. Icarus' Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news: the heatwave here in the Netherlands is as good as over!^^ Tomorrow will be the last hot day, and then, temperatures should gradually become more stable and less _**oh-dear-god-I-think-I-am-melting** _-like. Huzzah for that! 8DDD Melting suck!
> 
> Now, as for this chapter… it's going to be pretty diverse again, I think? Some fluff, some fun, some angst. Also, some butt-grabbing. Because sometimes, you just need to have some butt-grabbing in your life. It may even brighten up your day! 8DDD 
> 
> Enjoy!^^

Charlie was amazing, even when she didn’t realize she was. _Especially_ when she didn’t realize she was.  
  
As soon as she had come to the (understandable and also quite correct) conclusion I was acting strange because of a lingering illness, she was quick to dismiss my former behavior: I was acting weird and didn't think straight because of my sickness and fever, she probably rationalized. Charlie even shushed me when I tried to apologize to her some more and after her nosebleed had officially stopped, she took me by the hand and resolutely tugged me with her, out of the kitchen. 

Most of the sinners were still having (second) breakfast at that point – and many of them looked up in excited wonder (something tumultuous was going on in the usually so boring and dull hotel, after all!) when Charlie and I came waltzing through the dining hall. Not wanting to get literally _dragged away_ by her like that, I increased my pace to keep up with her.  
  
Nobody said anything in the room, not even Vaggie, although the moth demoness _had_ stood up from her chair and blocked Charlie’s path for a bit, her single eye fierce and unforgiving, her hands clasped around that white spear of hers. With a single shake of her head though, Charlie managed to get her friend to move away.

“I’ll explain later, okay?” I heard her say to Vaggie without doing as much as glimpse at her, and the princess walked right on through. 

I couldn’t help but flash Vaggie a large grin, giving her a pestering salute as I strolled past her as well. The poor insect looked like she was going to blow her top and maim me on the spot, but Husker – not even looking away from his baked beans – easily grabbed her wrist, muttered something I didn't catch and pulled her back down on her seat.  
  
I chuckled a little as I looked at the two of them, over my shoulder. That’s right! Even now, in spite of everything, if there _was_ an opportunity to mock Charlie’s former lover – I would _gladly_ take it. I would grasp that magnificent chance with both of my hands, with all my might, and I would act accordingly.

Because in all honesty, everything was spinning and crying out loud inside of me and I had to grasp _something_ to hold on to.

I had to keep myself distracted. 

For as long as there were other people close-by, I had to keep it up.  
  


**AaA  
  
**

As soon as we got back in the bedroom, Charlie sternly sat me down on the bed, disappeared into the adjunct bathroom and came back with that silly first aid-kit she always seemed to have within arm’s reach. She opened it, her forehead wrinkled with worry. Thankfully, it became smooth again when she triumphantly pulled out a medicinal thermometer. She sanitized it, quickly yet thoroughly, and then held it out in front of me.

“Alright Al – put this in your mouth for a while and keep it underneath your tongue, okay?”

Endeared by her almost-but-not-quite demanding tone, I obediently did what I was told and watched as Charlie now began to rummage through the closet next to the bed. When her blonde head finally turned around again, I saw she had a fresh, new set of nightwear in her arms. Apparently, I wasn’t going to leave this room anymore today.

“ _No_ you aren’t,” Charlie pointedly huffed, taking the thermometer out of my mouth after a few more minutes and studying it, “101.2 °F! That’s a fever alright – you’re not going anywhere anymore!” 

“Well it’s not _that_ bad,” I reassured her (my fever was the _last_ thing I was worried about) and I abruptly stopped talking when she began to insistently pull on my clothes and fumble with my high collar. 

Although Charlie was allowed to freely touch me, my pent-up frustration about my current situation almost caused me to shove her annoying, intrusive hands away and do it myself – but fortunately, Charlie realized in time I didn’t like her actions. Flustered, she halted her touching and gave me some more space, mumbling a soft apology.

I sent her a grateful smile and even felt like laughing out loud when Charlie politely turned around as I started changing myself. 

“Now now, you don’t have to go _that_ far, my love! Nothing you haven’t seen before, after all!”

She carefully peeked back at me. “You sure?”

It once more amazed me just how _coy_ this lovely woman could be. She was a _very_ skilled lover, _and_ she was the daughter of a legendary and infamous succubus: sexual situations or situations that _could_ be considered slightly erotic shouldn’t embarrass her, or at the very least not as much as they would embarrass _me,_ for example. And yet, here she was, sitting on the edge of the bed, at a safe distance from me, blushing from her already pink cheeks to the tips of her ears as she watched me (un)dress myself.

Her shyness put me at ease, though, as if it was normal to feel a bit tense and even prudish in these circumstances (which, in all honesty, I always did), and the irritation I had felt earlier quickly changed into a deep appreciation for her presence.

“Oh, Al – you’re doing it all wrong,” Charlie said, pointing at the way I was buttoning up my pajama vest. “Here, let me help you out…”

She looked at me for a moment, giving me time to refuse her help. I simply smiled at her again, undid the (indeed _very_ sloppily-done, my _lord)_ buttoning I had been doing and swiftly pulled her from the bed. Charlie let out a startled “eep” and fell against my chest – rather dramatically, even.

“My my, aren’t you _eager_ today,” I grinned, as she put her hands against me and looked up with a slight frown.

“And _you_ are a total _jerk_ today, you know that?”

I laughed and patted her head. “Oh I am aware!”

She sighed – but then smiled again, and got this adorable, concentrated glister in her eyes as he started buttoning up my vest with the utmost care.

I retreated my arms, put my them on my back and let her. The back of my hand throbbed, but as long as I was here with Charlie, it wasn’t too bad. I could endure and even smother the thoughts that came with the pain, as long as she was here with me.

“Anyway, just in case you didn’t catch it earlier,” she said, as her nimble fingers moved over my buttons, “you are sick, so you _can’t_ leave this room or even the _bed_ today. Am I clear?”

“Clear as day,” I nodded.

“Vaggie and I will be taking over. It’s not a big deal, we’ve done this for a while now, so everything will be okay. Alright? Don’t worry about it.”

“I won’t,” I promised, absentmindedly winding a lock of her hair around my fingers. 

“You should rest and sleep a lot today.” Charlie finished buttoning the final buttons of my vest. “I’ll be busy most of the day, but I’ll make sure to stop by the library at noon and bring you your book. Then I’ll spend my break here, with you. I’ll be visiting you around 2 PM though, since it’s already kind of late, and there's still a lot that needs to be done. Okay?”

“I love you,” I said. 

“Yes, and you should also—” Her words caught in her throat all of a sudden and her bright eyes moved upwards, her mouth hanging open, just a little. Slowly, her cheeks reddened yet again.

“O-oh. Yes, I – I love you, too!”

I snickered, enchanted by her obvious elation, and tilted her blooming face up, so that I could place a kiss on those lovely lips of hers. Then I wound my arms around her and snuggled my face in her fluffy hair, taking in her comforting and well-known scent. Charlie laughed at that, hugged me back and wrapped her arms around me as well. She rubbed her face against my chest and exhaled softly, and then she—

I jumped a bit in surprise when I felt her hands grabbing my behind. 

_Firmly._

I groaned. “Good gracious, Charlie. Is that… _really_ necessary?”

“What – groping your butt? Yes. It saves my life every day.” She gave me a playful look, her smile innocent, yet at the same time _not_ innocent, not at _all._

Still, her voice sounded unsure when she quietly asked me if I actually did mind it.

I put her mind at ease: “It’s not that I _mind,_ per se, but – well, I don’t get your fascination with my behind. It baffles me.”

Charlie shrugged. “I just like your butt.”

“ _Why_ though?”

“It’s a nice butt.”

“It’s _barely_ a butt.”

“It's a nice butt and it belongs to me.”

“What – _no_ it doesn't! You have your own!”

Charlie burst into a bubbly laughter. It was so _lively,_ and _joyful,_ and filled with an earnest happiness my own laughter couldn’t hold a candle to. It was also highly contagious, incredibly delightful, and so its wonderful sound caused me to laugh as well, holding on to my sweet princess just a little bit tighter.

We stood like that for a while, until Charlie gave me a swift and friendly, final pat on the butt and started pulling herself away from me.

“Okay – let’s get you into bed, Al. You need to sleep and— _wha_ —!”

Charlie let out a surprised yelp when I all of a sudden moved her towards the bed and swiftly pushed her down on its mattress. She fell down on her back and by the time she had recovered from the shock, I was already straddling her, having her wrists pinned next to her lovely and oh so very beautiful face. It was a pity I was getting dizzy fast, and didn’t see exactly straight anymore – because otherwise, I had _surely_ started feasting on this captivating creature’s kissable skin already, marking it with love bites, listening to her lewd gasps, feeling her figure shudder and squirm longingly against mine, like it had done last night.

“A-Al?” Charlie then stammered. She observed me cautiously, but didn’t protest.

“Why don’t you stay with me, my love,” I suggested, as the black shade of my shadow fell upon her. “Yes, that’s a wonderful idea! Stay here. Lay in bed with me. Take off those bothersome clothes. Let me spoil and ravish you as many times as your heart and body desire. Tell me what you want. Dear _god,_ why is this room spinning around so much?”

Charlie, who up till that last remark had been listening to me with barely-hidden excitement, instantly stopped giggling and gnawing her lower lip – and instead, she stared at me, concerned. Then she sighed and smiled at me. 

“We can’t do that, Al.”

“We can’t?” I blinked, wobbling a little.

Charlie shook her head. “You’re _sick,_ sweetie. I can’t have sex with you when you’re sick, that’s not right. I mean, you’re _literally_ swaying back and forth now!” 

“ _Sweetie_ ,” I repeated.

Charlie blushed, caught in the act, and cleared her throat. “N-now… can you get off me?”

“You called me _sweetie_.”

“Al…”

“That’s the most _embarrassing_ thing you have ever called me.”

“Uhm… I-I…” 

“Good _lord.”_

“I-I _know,_ alright!” Charlie squealed, now actively wrestling to get out of my grip. “It just – _flooped out,_ alright? I couldn’t help it, you looked all fawny and mopey when I rejected you just now and it was just so _adorable_ and I just—!”

Charlie kept on rambling for a while, which was incredibly cute when she was as flushed and rattled as she now was – dear god, it probably was illegal in multiple states and countries to be _this_ forsakenly _sweet,_ but I couldn’t focus on it: my head started to bonk and my right hand’s back _hurt,_ like somebody was stabbing it with a fork and kept pressuring it afterwards, and for a short moment, I couldn’t see or hear anything at all anymore. 

Just darkness and silence. And I liked neither.

  
**AaA  
  
**

When I finally opened my eyes again, I was still in bed – but now I was laying on my back, underneath the covers, with a couple of pillows behind me for support. It was very soft and very comfortable, no doubt about it, and I gave Charlie, who worriedly sat next to the bed, a small, soothing smile.

“Hello again, my love.”

“Hi.” Charlie answered my smile with an equally little one, but it was clear she was relieved to see me grin. “You… kind of passed out on me, Al, so I took that opportunity to – uhm, push you off me, tuck you in and check your temperature again.”

I nodded. “How very considerate of you.”

“Your fever went up a bit, so – you _really_ should take it easy now.”

“I understand.”

“Okay.”

“Now please call me sweetie once more.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped at that. Then, her eyes lit up and she let out a genuine snort. “ _Al_! Oh my _god,_ you’re _still_ going on about that?”

I chuckled, feeling a little better now that her spirits were lifted. 

“Now now, Charlie! It is of the _utmost_ importance you call me sweetie. Please. Seconds in which you didn’t call out to me using the most _sugary_ pet name in existence are relentlessly passing, _right as we speak_ , and that’s a most _dangerous_ feat! Why, the universe might even ultimately _implode_ if you don’t want to call me sweetie anymore! Do you _want_ the universe to implode, Charlie?”

“So it’s _that_ important, huh,” Charlie grinned, shoving her chair a bit closer to the bed. “How about I call you darling instead, hmm?”

I cursed my face’s betrayal as I felt it grow hotter, immediately. “No.”

“No?”

“No. Don’t.”

“You _like_ it though, don’t you…”

“ _Please_ stop.”

“… _darling_?”

“Charlie, I swear to all of your uncles.”

She giggled as I tried to compose myself and cool off my burning cheeks. Fortunately for me, she didn’t continue her teasing. Her laughter quickly lessened when her eyes locked themselves onto mine and eventually, her frown was back where it was, albeit not as dominant as it was before.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Better,” I said, which wasn’t a lie.

“Hmm.” She sat back and bit her lip – this time, in a very not-seductive (yet still attractive) way. “Listen, Al, you’re not going to like this, but if your fever won’t go down in the next few days, I’ll call the Royal Doctors.”

I cocked my head. “But that means you’ll have to talk to your parents again.”

“No it _doesn’t._ ” Her gaze darkened. “Doctor Jos gave me all of their personal phone numbers, back when you got skewered by Hakim. I don’t need to talk to _them_ anymore in order to get the doctors.”

Hm. She wasn’t even calling her parents ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’ anymore, hm? 

I let out a sigh. “Alright, my love.”

It pleased me to see Charlie respond to my answer with a satisfied, content curve around her mouth. 

“That’s a deal. I think I’ll leave you be for now then, okay?” She got up from her chair. “I’ll come back later to check up on you, I promise – and then we’ll spend some more time together, alright?”

She bent over, pushed back my hair and placed a sweet peck on my forehead.

I gave her an absentminded nod as she left the room. 

In all honesty, I’d rather _not_ see those… _peculiar_ doctors of hers: they annoyed me, and the more people that saw me in this weakened state, the more vulnerable I’d feel. However, I had unwillingly frustrated, shocked, hurt and pestered Charlie more than enough today, and now, all I wanted for her was to feel like everything was going to be okay.

Because everything _was_ going to be okay. Naturally. _Naturally._

**_I needed to talk to that Angel again.  
  
_ **

**AaA**  
  


Within, oh, well, five to ten minutes after Charlie had left the chamber, I had already used my own manners of communication to send a signal to Husk to come to Charlie’s bedroom. If possible, immediately. If not possible, _also_ immediately. It was absurdly important he would come to me as quickly as his enormous wings could carry him: I refused to be alone with the disturbing images my own haunted mind was rapidly (and most of all _mercilessly)_ whipping up, _right_ after Charlie had left me by myself. 

Because yes, of _course_ my mind went wild as soon as it saw its chance! This was _my_ mind, after all! It exaggerated _everything_! 

I needed distractions, I needed answers. _Fast._ Also, I had no idea what would happen if I stayed on my own in this hazy state I was in right now – and I _certainly_ didn’t feel like finding out.

I had a feeling furniture would get broken. 

A _lot_ of furniture.

And I didn’t think the hotel had the right insurance coverage for that. 

Wait, no, why on Earth I was even worrying about the hotel’s household insurance? I couldn’t care less about the damn household insurance!

Just when I started to wonder whether or not there was some insane connection between being faced with a untimely death and random thoughts about the importance of having a good insurance coverage, a knock on the door saved me from getting even more confused and bothered with myself.

“Asshole,” Husk tiredly acknowledged me, as his furry face peeked into the bedroom.

“Husker!” I exclaimed.

His already upside-down smile grew even less cheerful when he noticed my excitement upon seeing him and he rolled with his eyes. “Yeah yeah – listen, you red _dickhead,_ I got your message. Just came here to tell you ‘fuck you, I’m not your damn errand boy’. Now I’m going away again. I… crap, I probably shouldn’t even have bothered coming up here in the first place. What the hell was I thinking? What am I even doing here? _Fuck._ Ugh. Anyways, up yours, you fucki—”

“Can you do me a favor and send Bob up here?” I impatiently asked him.

Husk gasped and furrowed his bushy eyebrows like I had personally insulted him and every crabby, catlike alcoholic in his bloodline. “What the– you _rude_ piece of _shit,_ did you even HEAR me?”

“Yes, I heard you, but I have no time for your delightful shenanigans. This is a matter of life or death, I’m afraid.” I clasped my hands together tightly – the healthy one on top of the cursed one – and looked the cat demon straight in the eyes. “Help me out here. _Please_.”

He was so perplexed by my quietly-spoken words that his already large eyes grew yet another size. “Fuckin’ _hell,_ you actually told me _please._ I never thought I’d see the damn day. I didn’t know you even knew of the word’s existence! Shit, you really _are_ sick!”

“I am,” I confirmed.

“How… bad is it?”

“Quite bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Hm-hm.” 

He stood in the doorway for a couple of seconds, his face an enigma. One of his claws still stubbornly held on to the doorknob as he tried to figure out what to say to me. In the end, he didn’t say anything to me at all and cast his eyes downwards, his nuzzle resembling a disgruntled expression. Grumbling to himself, he muttered that I was the biggest pain in the ass he had ever known, and that he needed a drink, and that he’d see what he could do for me.

“Thank you, old friend,” I said – but he was already gone before I had finished my sentence.  
  


**AaA  
  
**

Husk might be a hopeless drunkard, a chagrined, grouchy cat demon and probably the most pessimistic sinner that was on Charlie’s payroll – but he also was the most reliable _ally_ I could call upon, in my time of need. I didn’t even have to wait for another five minutes before, yet again, somebody knocked on Charlie’s bedroom door. I told them to come in.

A little while later, Bob and his long face sat next to the bed. Everything about him _screamed_ he didn’t want to be here, but still – he was here. And he wasn’t alone either, because apparently, Charlie’s extremely annoying goat bodyguards had brashly entered the bedroom as well, and they were now circling around the Angel like a pair of affection-starved dogs. Or hungry vultures. One or the other.

I wrinkled up my nose at the sight of Bob, apathetically patting one of the goats on the head a couple of times.

“I see you got yourself a nice couple of pets,” I said.

“I know and I cannot help it,” Bob sighed. “I suspect the princess told them to keep an eye on me, and ever since then, they have been following me throughout the entire hotel. Secretly at first, but when they found out _I_ had found out, they simply dropped the spying act and just started following me around outright, in plain sight, not even _trying_ to act secretive anymore.”

“They seem to like you.”

“How delightful, I might pull a muscle from pure happiness and glee.” Bob grumbled when one of the goat demons gripped one of his legs and hugged it clingingly. “Anyway, that drunk, feline lackey of yours threatened to tell me his devastatingly depressing life story _unless_ I looked you up right this instant, so here I am.”

“So that actually _worked?”_ I blinked in surprise.

“You seem to underestimate just how much I _loathe_ life stories nowadays, thanks to… certain events.” He looked at me darkly.

I smiled. “Rosie did a good number on you, didn’t she?”

“If I’ll _ever_ see that woman again and she starts rambling about her neighbors’ curtains _one more time_ , I will personally throw myself from the highest building in Hell.” A deep, exhausted sigh, as the Angel tried to push the goats off his lap. “Now, Alastor. Would you _please_ tell me why you needed to talk to me again?”  
  


**AaA**  
  


After Bob had locked the two goat demons outside of Charlie’s room – because I naturally wasn’t going to talk about anything as long as those two spying pieces of Hell-vermin were lurking around – I explained to the Angel what had been on my mind ever since he had told me those prognostic words in the dining room.

He patiently listened to me without interrupting me once, politely nodding and humming a few times, and when I was done talking, he simply shrugged.

“The Mark of the Fallen is normally meant to be put _only_ onto (Arch)angels that have misbehaved, banning them from God’s Paradise and preventing them from ever returning to Heaven. Both Archangels as well as normal Angels have these kinds of extraordinary powers, but naturally, the ungodly power of an Archangel surpasses that of a regular Angel by far. Banning (Arch)angels from Heaven is something that happens rarely, fortunately enough – but it _does_ happen, every once in a while.”

“I’m not an Angel,” I kindly reminded him.

He snorted. “You _certainly_ are not. You are a filthy, flawed, sinful _mortal._ Therefore, the spell I bewitched you with is a curse that is _far too powerful_ for your feeble soul to handle. Normally, I would have apologized to you for giving you this curse: I had forgotten all about that spell's quaint side-effect on humans when I gave it to you - and I only remembered it _today,_ after I saw your twitching hand. However, I will not apologize to you. Because I hate you. It is what it is.”

Speechless, I stared at Bob. 

He continued: “It will take some time before you die, because I am not as powerful as an Archangel and you happen to have a remarkable _strong_ human soul: let us not forget you have proven to be vigorous enough to overthrow many overlords here, take down and capture a literal Angel and you are even considered to be quite the threat to the King of Hell _himself._ Putting all of that aside, however… in time, the curse _will_ take its toll on you, and you _will_ succumb to it.”

I still couldn’t speak.

“It is going to be a rather _painful_ death, too,” he carried on, since I was unable to heckle him. The faintest hint of a sadistic smile crept around his lips, something I had seen on his placid face before. “You probably remember how much it hurt when my Heavenly spears were stuck in your back, yes? That burning, everything-consuming _anguish_ I put you through. Well, I am not sure, but I believe your death-struggle will be something like _that_ – only then ten times _worse,_ and you will feel its hot, endless agony _everywhere._ Every piece of limb, every bit of flesh, every vein inside of you. It will _throb, sting_ and _ache,_ like there is a deadly poison spreading through your tormented body… which is _exactly_ that, in all fairness. And then, after you have fought your best fight, after you have trashed about for hours… you will _die._ Again.”

No words. There were none.

The Angel stoically looked at my immobilized face. “And you know what happens once you die a second time, do you not? Your body will remain – but your soul will get absorbed by the Void and it will never see the light of day again. You will be _gone._ Deader than dead. And all of Hell will heave a sigh of _relief._ Except for…”

Bob’s voice suddenly got a slight, strangled tone to it. This tone I detected, together with those final two words, were the only reasons why I was still able to raise my head and not break down in another panic attack. It was a tone, no, an _emotion_ that was very rare down here in Hell. A bizarre, worthless trait most sinners didn’t have, or denied to have. 

Oh my.

Bob felt _guilty._

Perhaps he couldn’t show it all that well and perhaps he was ecstatic about the fact he had already, more or less, killed his biggest tormentor, but all of that didn’t matter. Fact was that Bob – good ol’ _Bobbert,_ our stolen Angel, with the damaged wings and a severely weakened mental health – _liked **Charlie**_ **.** The _only_ being here in Hell that was nice to him and tried her best to heal him.

“That’s right,” I heard myself calmly speak up, my grin stretching out wide. “Everybody will be happy with my untimely demise, yes – everybody, except for _her.”_

Bob swallowed, visually getting uncomfortable. “I…”

“Well how about _that_!” I rampaged on. “You’re not only going to withhold the love of my life from ascending to Heaven, but you’re _also_ going to be responsible for the death of her _lover_ – ha, what am I saying – her _betrothed_! What a _nice_ how-do-you-do, what a _lovely_ thank-you-very-much for somebody that has only been _kind_ to you, that has _welcomed_ you in her hotel with open arms, that was willing to do _everything_ for you, just because she is so _**mindlessly**_ – so _**frustratingly**_ – so god-forsakenly **_good_** _!_ _”_

It was an effective way to stress the fact just how badly Bob had screwed up, but I admit that the sudden tears fogging up my view and streaming over my cheeks and chin had not been planned, not at all, even, and I confusedly – and roughly – started wiping them of my face. It was no use, however: the teardrops kept on coming and at one point, I had to hold tight on every bit of pride inside me to prevent myself from actually sobbing out loud.

Why was I crying? Why the _blazes_ was I crying? Who was I crying for? For me? For Charlie? For the both of us?

In any case, partly unplanned or not, my strategic, yet desperate move worked, since Bob stammered something, out of the blue.

“There - there might be something you can do. _Might_.” He exhaled and the air came out of him shakily. “I – I will look into it. Alright?”

I was _still_ not ready to talk to him without having to lose the last bits of my dignity, so I simply nodded, making sure my smile never weakened, not even for a single fleeting moment. Then I raised my hand and made a few rapid, urgent swatting gestures into his direction, like I tried to shoo away a nasty little fly. I didn’t want to spend another minute in Bob’s bothersome presence any longer. Right now, he was no longer of any use to me.

Bob, however, was slow, and still too perplexed about everything – but my patience had run thin. He had to _go._ **Now.** The Angel therefore was forcibly removed from Charlie’s bedroom, as my black vines harshly picked his sorry person off the chair and literally _hurled_ him out of the chamber, crashing him into Razzle and Dazzle, who were still waiting for Bob on the other side of the door.

After that, I let the tentacle arms shut the door and lock it. Then, I leaned back into the pillows, stared at the ceiling, as I often did, and waited until sleep would finally take hold of me.

Sadly enough, I would stay awake for yet another hour – but at least the pathetic teardrops had stopped by then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Icarus and his father, Daedalus, need to flee from the island of Crete: although the brilliant architect Daedalus had constructed an impressive maze for King Minos, he had also indirectly helped the hero Theseus with slaying the monstrous Minotaur - and the King was _not_ happy with that (the monster was also kind of his stepson, after all…). So Daedalus constructs two pair of wings, made from wax and feathers. After testing the wings first and before flying off for real, Daedalus warns his son to not fly too high (because of the dangers of the sun) or too low (because of the dangers of the sea). Icarus is instructed to follow his father’s path of flight and then everything should probably be fine. They then take flight... but soon, Icarus gets too cocky and starts flying higher and higher, closer to the sun, which melts the wax off his makeshift feathers. When all of the wax is gone, Icarus keeps helplessly clapping his now bare arms, but, of course, to no avail – and he plummets to his death as he falls into sea and drowns.
> 
> This well-known myth about hubris (overconfidence) can be alluded to old, Greek poets of yesteryear, but the Roman poet Ovid (43 BC – 17 or 18 AC) was the one that probably made the story famous in his “Metamorphoses”, a series of literature that is considered to be one of the world’s most important sources of classical mythology.


	6. The Mouth of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today, during one of my first lessons of the new schoolyear, I overheard one of the students say to a new kid in class: "You see her? That's Miss ***. She's one of the most awesome teachers around here. She's freaking _hilarious_!" and I felt so proud and happy on that moment, I swear I could just burst (I didn't though)! 8DDDDDD  
> Sorry. XDDDDD I just wanted to share that with you.^^ It's nice to hear your students actually appreciate you!
> 
> But yeah: my schoolwork has begun, so I'll be a lot busier than before. Allow me to apologize in advance for belated replies!^^;;; 
> 
> Right! Then - some more fanart! The lovely [Chisena](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt) made a very sweet [drawing](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1296396524272799744) for me, depicting both Al and Bob in a 'loving' embrace. XDDDDD It's great. Not to mention freaking hilarious!  
> Also! The just as wonderful [Danie](https://twitter.com/dae_danie) made an artsy drawing of the scene of chapter 5!^^ Look it up [here](https://twitter.com/dae_danie/status/1297360657734541312). And _marvel_ at the amazing details! 8DDDD
> 
> Now, for the chapter. Hmm. Well, you know what? Pay a lot of attention to many things. Let me just tell you that and leave it at that.  
> Enjoy the chapter!^^

As I had both feared and expected, Alastor’s fever didn’t go down in the next few days. On the contrary – it seemed like his fever was going _up_ , _worryingly_ so, like he was literally burning up.

He had also become a lot quieter and less expressive, his usually big and toothy grin now nothing more but a small, faint smile that cost him every bit of his strength and energy to make it stick on his face… and it looked like it _hurt,_ forcing a smile like that. It was really unsettling to see Al like this – so _frail_ and _weak_ and _silent_ – and so, when I woke up on a Wednesday and saw Alastor’s condition had only worsened, I decided that enough was enough and called in the Royal Doctors.

Or… Royal _Doctor,_ singular. 

Both Dr. Jos and Dr. Rocinante politely yet resolutely _refused_ to pay a visit to “that ungrateful tentacle bastard”, and while I was sure Mother would have her ways to easily ‘persuade’ them into coming to the hotel anyway, I simply didn’t want to turn to _her_ this time. Instead, I mentally prepared myself to _beg_ Dr. Hubermann to please come this way – but although she wasn’t exactly stoked about having to come to the hotel either, she _was_ willing to come. In fact, it didn’t even take me _that_ long to convince her, to be honest.

Heh. Looks like there was a reason why Dr. Hubermann was my favorite of the three Royal Doctors!

It was a pretty fortunate turn of events, as Al later told me – after I had informed him about all of this – that he actually “disliked Dr. Hubermann the _least”_ out of my three well-educated doctors. He therefore wouldn’t mind it “too much”, letting her examine him. 

Uhm. Hooray, I think…? 

The doctor arrived, requested me to leave Al and her alone for a couple of minutes and she thoroughly examined (a _very_ chagrined, but at least cooperative) Alastor. Much to my disappointment, she told me she couldn’t really discover anything out of the ordinary, after I had come back into the room. She said he didn’t have a cold or any other kind of known sickness, he just had a high fever. That was it. 

That was it? _Really?_ I couldn’t believe that. I wasn’t an expert, not at all, but I at the very least knew that a high fever most of the time meant that the body was busy fighting off some kind of illness that had found its way inside. And maybe most sicknesses, diseases and illnesses didn’t exist in Hell, but it was clear as day something was going on with Alastor that just wasn’t _right._

Dr. Hubermann, a proud and cranky demoness, snorted at that, ignored my stammers and protests and prescribed some medicines that would help reducing Al’s fever. When she was done and had packed her belongings, she curtly demanded me to come see her out – that was the least I could do as a thank-you for all of her effort, she claimed – and I was too flabbergasted by the weirdness of it all to refuse her.

At the entrance hall’s door, she bluntly told me that Alastor most likely was cursed.

“A-Alastor's _cursed?”_ I stared at her, puzzled. “Why tell me _now_ – why didn’t you tell me back there, in Al’s presence?”

“ _Ha_! Over the past couple of decades, I’ve learned when and _especially_ when _not_ to speak up!” Dr. Hubermann narrowed her already small, pig-like eyes at me. “Didn’t you see how _relieved_ he suddenly acted, when I told you I couldn’t find anything? A rather strange response from somebody who’s suffering from a mysterious high fever, wouldn’t you agree? He already _knows_ he’s cursed, Princess – and moreover, he doesn’t want _you_ to find out.”

My heart, that suddenly felt like it weighed 100 kilograms, stopped for a moment, or so it seemed. “ _What_?” 

The doctor frowned. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised. Your ‘sweetheart’ has fought against an Angel and _won._ He had _five_ pieces of Heavenly weaponry thrust into his back and lived to tell, _and_ he survived almost bleeding out. Seeing he _now_ has some kind of curse trapped inside of him - well, it doesn’t even _mildly_ surprise me anymore. I bet the guy could lose his friggin’ _head_ and still continue to see the sun come up the next day.”

“This curse,” I hastily said, “how – how bad of a curse is it?”

Finally, some of Dr. Hubermann’s condescending mannerisms disappeared. “Not too bad. He’ll live, no problem.”

The huge, heavy burden I felt before dropped from my chest and I exhaled slowly. “Y-yeah? You know of it? Have you seen something like it before?”

“I suppose.”

“You _suppose_?” 

She sighed, as if this conversation was tiring her out. “Look, I know not much about curses – it’s not like I come across a lot of cursed people down here in Hell – but I _do_ know that this curse your manipulative Radio Boyfriend has is _nothing_ to worry about. Nothing at _all._ Nope. Also, if it’s any consolation: I noticed his fever had gone down a little when I checked it one last time back then.”

“Ah.” I reached for my hair and grasped it tightly, lost in thoughts. “That’s… that’s good, I think.”

The doctor tried a smile. “Come on, Princess. Cheer up! Like I said, it’s _absolutely nothing_ to worry yourself about.”

I shot a questioning, almost _angry_ look at her. “But you _just said_ Al’s always caught up in bizarre and otherwise lethal circumstances. And this curse – I know you said it’s nothing too awful, but… w-well… are you really, _really_ sure it’s nothing serious?”

She hesitated and pursed her lips together tightly – but then the doctor just shrugged, putting on her coat in a swift movement. “He’ll survive, Princess Charlotte. That’s _all_ you need to know. He _always_ survives, doesn’t he? So why wouldn’t he survive this one little curse as well?”

I was too speechless to say anything in response and so, a little while later, Dr. Hubermann – my so-called, favorite Royal Doctor – just… left, without even saying as much as goodbye. Or maybe she _did_ say goodbye; I didn’t really remember anymore. I was too busy wondering what to do, what to think and how to face Alastor, now that I knew he apparently had been cursed and had kept it hidden from me. 

Should I tell him?

Should I not say anything at all?

Which one?

  
**CcC**

  
“I’m back,” I heard myself say in a weird, shaky voice, as I reentered the bedroom both Alastor and I shared.

Al, who had been flipping pages of Vaggie’s old Donald Duck-comics (I guess Vaggie didn’t want them anymore), looked up with a – weak, but as always still persistent – smile, putting the magazine away as soon as he saw me. 

“Welcome back, my love. My, you were gone for almost half an hour! Was it such an emotional goodbye?”

I laughed, a tad too hysterical. “Yeah! I know! Uhm… Sorry it took me so long. You know doctors! Always so talkative, ha ha!”

Alastor gave me an odd look. “Dr. Hubermann isn’t talkative at all.” 

“Oh, really? I-I never noticed.” I stupidly lingered around near the door for a few seconds, before making my way to the bed and sitting down on the chair next to it. “So… so how have you been, in the time I’ve been away?”

“I believe my fever has gone down a bit,” he said. “Want to check it for yourself?” 

I just… nodded, because what else was I supposed to do in response, and then I reached out a hand for his forehead.

“She told you, didn’t she,” Alastor stated, before my hand could touch his skin.

Alarmed (but instantly incredibly _relieved_ as well, since I now didn’t have to pick a choice anymore), I froze up and looked at him. Alastor looked back, _straight_ in my eyes, his brown-and-red eyes studying mine carefully, as if they wanted to suck up every piece of useful information that I knew and had painstakingly stashed away in the back of my mind.

Eventually, I wiped his hair away from his forehead and put my hand on it anyway.

“She told me, yes.”

He felt less hot, I had to admit.

Al closed his eyes and hummed. “Ah, well. So you found out. What did she tell you, my dear?”

“That you’re cursed.”

“Hm-hm.”

“And that – that you already _knew_ you’re cursed.” I bit on the insides of my cheeks. I couldn’t help sounding upset.

Alastor remained calm. “I did, yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? And why didn’t you want _me_ to know about it?”

“My darling princess, don’t you have more than enough things to worry your beautiful blonde head about already?” Al sat up a bit more and plucked my hand off his forehead, pressing a kiss on top of it and taking a gentle hold of it with his own. “I didn’t want you to worry about me. Not more than necessary, in any case, and not if there was a possibility my illness could distress you even more. I was going to tell you eventually, but… not before I knew about the… _severity_ of my situation.”

I huffed, still feeling disgruntled about all of this, and looked away. However, I didn’t pull my hand away. 

“Well, then I guess you’re relieved it’s not too bad, right?” 

“Did the doctor tell you that?”

I blinked and looked back at him. Alastor gave me a fright by suddenly leaning towards me and giving me an urgent look with both of his mismatched eyes spread wide open. 

“Did the doctor tell you it wasn’t too bad of a curse? Was _that_ what she said? Well, Charlie?”

“Yes,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing him back a bit. “Yes, she told me that it was okay and that you would live – calm _down,_ Al! You might pop a vein!”

He allowed me to push him back, relaxed into his pillow-collection and let out a deep, resigned sigh.

I stared at his relief, confused. Then realization struck me.

“What – wait a minute, you didn’t _know_?”

Alastor smiled broadly at me, but in a way that could be interpreted in different ways – mostly none too positive ways. 

“Well! In case you’ve forgotten, my love, she told _you_ the curse wasn’t too bad, but she never told _me_! She only told me it was nothing but a high fever, remember?”

“Oh,” I said, indeed recalling Dr. Hubermann never did tell him he didn’t have to worry about the intensity of the curse. “Now that you mention it…”

“So she _knew_ that I was cursed, she _knew_ that I hadn’t told you, and she then decided to tell _you_ that my curse isn’t all that bad, so that I could only figure out my illness isn’t deadly by having _you_ tell me that. What a cruel, yet effective stunt your doctor pulled off, exposing me like that!” Al smirked, and now his smile was a lot more upbeat. “It’s decided! I like her – and I like her style. A _lot._ Can’t Dr. Hubermann become my therapist?”

I sighed, for once not feeling the need to laugh with him. “No. _Vaggie_ is your therapist already. At least, she _will_ be, once she… has accepted that fact.”

(I could still vividly remember that hollow, thousand-yard-stare in Vaggie’s eye when it was decided she was going to be Al’s counselor. Reassuring her that it wasn’t for redemption-purposes, but just for him to have someone to talk or vent to every once in a while didn’t exactly excite her either, so to speak.)

Alastor clearly gloated over Vaggie's misfortune. “Perhaps you should offer Vaggie guidance on how to offer _me_ guidance. _Ha_!”

I glared at him and groaned. I had _enough_ of his attitude. 

“Will you _stop_ that, Alastor? _You_ may think everything’s _fine_ now that the cat’s out of the bag and your curse (apparently) isn’t all that bad, but I’m – I’m still _disappointed_ in you! Maybe I should – I should just go.” 

I wanted to yank my hand free from his and get off my chair, but he tightened his hold around my wrist almost immediately – and simply pulled me back down on my chair. It wasn’t painful, but it _was_ insistent.

“You never call me ‘Alastor’ like that,” he muttered. “I’d rather have you call me anything else _but_ Alastor, if you’re going to speak out my name like _that_.”

“ _Fine_ – you _lied_ to me, you selfish _jerk_ ,” I growled. “How’s _that_!”

“A little bit better. Thank you.”

“You’re _welcome_!”

He let out a soft laugh. “Well, aren’t you adorable! Even while mad, you _still_ try to be nice. You’re so kind.”

“Shuddup, liar!” I blubbered. “Ican’thelpid!” 

“Charlie – I didn’t lie to you. I simply didn’t want to tell you – and I _told_ you that.” Alastor kept a firm grip around my hand, but his thumb rubbed comforting circles on the back of it. “I told you a few nights ago: that my problem wasn’t something I wanted to bother you with. Do you recall that night? You then proceeded to babble on and on until I fell asleep, just because you wanted to do something nice for me – just because you wanted to help me out anyway.”

I sniffed, harshly wiping the tears from my face.

“And you _did_ help me out – please dear, don’t _scrub_ your skin like that. Here, allow me.” Alastor let go of my hand, took a cautious hold of my face instead and turned it his way. “You _always_ help me out, my precious princess, even when you’re not aware of it. I thank you for that. I appreciate it, more than you can imagine.”

I glared at him, _very_ intensely, even – but I didn’t struggle and I didn’t protest when he materialized a handkerchief out of thin air and started to wipe the tears from my eyes. He touched my wet cheeks with care – and it felt good, Gradually, I calmed myself down a little, even though I was still pissed at him. Then my eyes happened to catch sight of his weary expression, his pale skin, his unhealthy-red face and… his hand.

The hand with the strange cross on it. The hand that all of a sudden started acting up a few weeks ago.

“It’s your hand, isn’t it,” I said, softly. “ _That’s_ where you got cursed. What got you sick.”

Alastor’s hands and handkerchief halted in their movements for a brief moment. He stared at me, both impressed as well as amazed, and then he granted me an affectionate, genuine, tiny smile – the kind of smile you wanted to put in a little box and put away, so that you could take a look at it later and feel all warm and tingly from the inside. 

Because I had stopped my crying just as sudden as I had started it, Alastor put away the cloth after a few final brushes and scooted a bit to the side, pulling part of the covers away and patting on the mattress. 

“Come here for a moment, my love.”

I felt my stupid, love-struck heart jump a little.

“Is… is that a good idea, Al? In the state you’re in?”

He glanced at me curiously, at first _blissfully_ impervious for my somewhat, slightly suggestive question that pretty much _every other man_ in his place would have understood _right_ away. But then, when I simply looked at him and waited, it began to dawn on him what I was trying to say – and he hastily shook his head. His flustered face even grew a few shades redder than it already was. 

“No, I’m _not_ – I’m _not_ asking you to – I simply want to _explain_ something. I’m not going to – _assault_ you or anything. That’s preposterous!”

Finally, I snorted. Catching him off guard like this, when he was being very serious and didn’t think about sex at _all,_ was always a treat. Normally, I’d have felt a bit mean about teasing him like this, but for this time, yeah – I was allowed to be a bit mean to him.

However, I had to admit I had forgotten most of my anger already when I got up and took his beckoning hand, letting him pull me into bed with him.  
  


**CcC**   
  


I turned Al’s scarred hand and had a good, long look at the silvery cross on the back of it. At first glance, it wasn’t anything too special – it didn’t even really stand out all that much, because of his hand’s blackened skin. But when I squeezed my eyes and gazed at it for a bit longer, I saw the red, irritated sides of the cross. The skin of his hand had swollen as well and it felt hot to the touch, like that one time I had accidentally almost _crushed_ his hand with my bedroom door.

I made a worried face and gave Al a side-glance. “Does it… hurt a lot?”

“It’s not a very pleasant feeling, no,” he said with a weak smile.

“You got this scar from that time you fought with the Angel Hakim, right?” I wanted to know.

Alastor didn’t answer right away – and that moment of hesitance was enough to make me frown.

“Al. Just tell me already.”

“He – gave it to me, yes,” Alastor admitted, nodding. “The Angel did. He took my hand and put a spell on me. Well, maybe ‘put a spell on me’ is too _nicely_ put… he cursed me, Charlie.”

“Why did he…” I paused, putting a finger on the mark and tracing it slowly. I found myself thinking that I had seen a similar scar years and years ago… but _where_? What was this weird feeling of _nostalgia_ I felt washing over me? 

“It was an act of revenge, I believe.” Alastor said out loud what I had been thinking. He talked solemnly, taking his time. “As you already know, I had been rather _violent_ with Hakim, during our little… _tête-à-tête_. When he saw his chance, he put this curse on me – and that was that. I have to say that I underestimated him – _greatly,_ if I may add. Why, he got more guts than I had expected, to be honest! He cursed me when I least expected it!” 

I started rubbing the back of his hand – gently, testing. Al grimaced at that, but didn’t tell me to stop. 

“What… what does it _do,_ except for hurting you and giving you a fever?”

Alastor watched me touch his hand for a moment. I could see he appreciated the interest I showed in his scar – and he was also pleasantly surprised to hear the knowledge I already possessed concerning his wound. Still, it took him a while before he in- and exhaled deeply… and finally spoke up. 

“I believe Hakim called it the Mark of the Fallen.”

He had barely spoken the words or an image of long, _long_ ago flashed through my mind. That one time during the Summer, when I was still a toddler. I was looking for my dad, since he was going to take me to the Royal Swimming Pool that day – and then I accidentally walked in on my father changing into his _bright red, glittery swimming trunks_. There was this weird, silvery, cross-shaped scar on one of his butt-cheeks. When I asked him about it later – as we floated around in the pool – he, for the very first time, told me the story about how he was abandoned from Heaven. And about how Uncle Mike had apparently planted the mark on his butt as he was _literally_ kicked out of Paradise.

“Dad has this mark as well!” I therefore told Al, looking up at him. “He has the same curse – it prevents you from ever entering Heaven, right?”

Alastor gave me a nod. “That’s what the Angel said, yes.”

I chuckled. “What a _stupid_ thing to do. No, scratch that – in a way, it was even a _nice_ thing to do!”

He tilted his head. “A _nice_ thing to do? _Really_ now?”

“Yeah!” I beamed a big, happy smile at Al and took his hand in both of mine, hugging it. “Although I already had given up on redeeming you, I now actually have a good explanation for that, too: you’re no longer able to enter Heaven anyway! So you can just stay here in Hell – with _me_!”

“I – suppose so?”

“And the most amazing thing is: I don’t even have to feel _guilty_ about it anymore! About you, not being able to go to Heaven, I mean.” I dropped his hand, since I felt like just hugging his hand wasn’t good enough for me anymore, and I climbed onto his lap, plopped myself down (making him utter _“oof”_ in surprise), throwing my arms around him and squishing my grinning face flat against his chest. “This might be the best curse _ever_!”

Alastor laughed at that, but it sounded less delighted than I had thought it would sound. Which probably was normal. I mean, the whole scarred-hand-thing probably wasn’t a nice experience for him and he _did_ still have a fever and a throbbing wound that bothered him. It would get better, like the doctor had said, but – yeah, maybe I should tone my happiness down a little.

A bit embarrassed, I slowly removed my face from his feverish body, clearing my throat. “S-sorry – I kind of overreacted. Your scar – it must hurt you a lot. But… knowing that you will have to stay here in Hell for the rest of eternity… it – it _does_ make me feel happy. And… less lonely.”

“You…” Alastor gave me a look I couldn’t place. “You felt _guilty_ about not being able to redeem me? Even though I told you _so many times_ it wasn’t something you could accomplish? _Especially not you_ , even?” 

My cheeks heated up. “It’s… because of my ultimate goal, Al! The reason why I decided to run a redemption hotel in the first place. Getting all of my tenants into Heaven, one way or another… that was my _purpose._ That goal would have made me… well…”

“...happiest?”

His strangely sad-sounding voice startled me and I hastily shook both my head as well as my hands at him. 

“That – that was _then_! This is _now_! And I’ve been at peace with you refusing to leave my side for a while now, Al. It’s just – knowing that you _definitely_ can’t leave Hell, because of your curse and _not_ per se because of your personality or misdeeds, or… or because of, say, my _failure_ to get you there – it puts my mind at ease. I – I don’t know if that makes any sense, ha ha… b-but it’s like _that,_ Al.”

“You did nothing wrong.” Alastor’s hands slipped behind me and I felt one hand sneaking downwards, over my clothes, until it rested on the small of my back, while his other hand crept up, kindly cradling the back of my head. “And you’re _not_ a failure. You are my beautiful, overwhelmingly _darling_ angel – the flame of my soul and the love of my life.”

At first, I looked at him in flabbergasted silence, putting my hands on his shoulders with care – as if I was scared I might break something if I did it too sudden or harshly. My eyes got watery and my nails, although I tried to stay composed, began to dig themselves into his skin. 

“I-I’m the love of your life?”

His hand lowered itself until I felt it ghost lovingly in my neck. “You are, my princess.”

My nose started dripping – oh my god – and I rapidly pulled back a hand to wipe it. 

“Nobody – nobody ever has called me the actual love of their life before. Probably because nobody ever lived as long as I have, I-I think… maybe it’s – it’s _scary_ to say that to somebody who’s as old as I am… and… I-I don’t know if I even have the right to say – to say that back to yo—”

“Before you go and talk yourself down in the gutters again,” Alastor brusquely cut me off, “I’m _not_ expecting you to tell me I’m also the love of your life (well not _yet,_ in any case). I just want you to know that you are the only woman I have ever met that managed to mesmerize my heart in the best way possible – and the only woman that made this arrogant, self-righteous man feel whole. You made me experience emotions I had never even _heard_ of before, not even when I was still a living and breathing criminal, hacking and slashing away to shoo away my boredom and my frustrations in life.”

I inaudibly blubbered some more, watching him with affection, feeling my whole body glow up from the compliments and lovingly spoken words that kept falling from his mouth.

“You made me more _human_ ,” Al said, “than I _ever_ was while being alive. So don’t you ever even _suggest_ you have failed, Charlie. That kind of nonsense doesn’t suit the woman I love and wish to spend the rest of my – no, _her_ life with.”

“A-Al…” I stuttered.

“Now finish up cleaning your gorgeous face so I can decently kiss you.”

I snorted. “Oh, o-okay then… w-wait a minute…” 

He chuckled and patiently waited until I was finished wiping the tears and snot off my face. When I thought it was… good enough, I bashfully looked up again. Al wasted no time, gave my neck a soft pull and secured a first, resounding kiss on my lips. I shuddered and my hand dropped on the mattress – where it was instantly taken by Al’s other hand. It pushed open the openings in-between my fingers and slid his own, long, pointy ones within them, clasping my hand warmly.

He gave me more kisses, deeper ones, persistent ones that invaded my mouth and flooded my senses. All I could do was answer them, melt with him, press myself to his body and grasp his hand so fixedly it hurt wonderfully. 

“How many kisses do you need,” he breathed against my mouth, “tell me how many more kisses you need – before you can see yourself the way I see you?”

I didn’t know how or what to answer him, since my body and mind had turned as hot and needy as his own, as I hold on to him and gasped breathlessly in-between the sultry kisses he kept coddling me with – and I also didn’t even _attempt_ to stop him when he undid the buttons of my shirt and urgently told me to please take off my pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “La Bocca della Verità” is a rather famous sculptured mask of a human head. It stands against the wall of the Basilica of Saint Mary in Cosmedin (Rome, Italy) and it’s a piece of art that has attracted many, many visitors that like to stick their hands into the mouth of the marble mask. Nobody really knows what the original purpose of this thing was, but it most likely depicts the face of the sea titan god Oceanus. People have noted that the eyes, nostrils and mouth-parts of the mask are open, for some reason.  
> Whatever the original point of the plate was, people nowadays believe that if you stick your fingers into the Mouth of Truth and tell a lie, the mask will bite your dirty, lying fingers clean off! This legend probably originates from the 1953 movie “Roman Holiday”, where the main characters aren’t being truthful to one another and the mask is used as a storytelling device… but I mostly know about it because of a children’s book I read when I was young, called “Het geheim van de afgebeten vingers” (“The Secret of the Fingers That Were Bitten Off”). In that story, a couple of kids start losing their fingers after putting them into the Mouth of Truth and telling a lie. Did the statue actually bite them off (spoiler: in the end, it wasn’t the statue that removed the fingers – no, it was the skeleton of a deceased princess with a scythe that hid itself behind the mask in search for bones, of course! Naturally!)?  
> It’s just a story though. Probably. Most likely. But in case you want to try it out for yourself: you can always make a trip to Rome, put your hand into Oceanus’ mouth and tell a little white lie. Wat could possibly go wrong?


	7. Sleeping Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of amazing how easy you get used to the daily grind of work: it's only been one week, and I already feel like I've been working for months now, ha ha!^^;;;
> 
> Well, in any case - I was blessed again by yet another wonderful piece of fanart! 8DDDD Look at [this](https://twitter.com/Volker_Evert/status/1298884748324958212) great work of art [Avo](https://twitter.com/Volker_Evert) made of "The Library, or The Discovery of Heaven"! Aaaah! <3 <3 <3 I love it so much!^^
> 
> Now! As for this chapter - things are getting... **steamy**. Quite steamy indeed. But that's a good thing! After all that angst, it's about time I let Al and Charlie _unwind_ for a bit, right...?

Personally, I thought it was very unethical to have sex with a sick person. 

You… didn’t know for _sure_ if the sick person wanted to share the bed with you, after all. Maybe it was their sickness talking. Maybe it was their fever, messing up their real thoughts and feelings about the prospect of making love with somebody. Maybe it could even be _dangerous_ for the person that was sick: they already were in a weakened state, both physically as well as mentally, so why try to make things even worse by screwing them?

Still, I – I kind of liked the _taboo_ that came with it. 

You weren’t supposed to sleep with somebody that was sick, that was just wrong, and not good, and forbidden, and _god if I didn’t get turned on like crazy_ by things like that. It kind of made the whole experience even more sensual, more erotic, for some reason, if you knew you were doing something you actually were _not_ supposed to do. It – it kind of was like having sex with your lover _in your parents’ bed_ , or getting nailed in a public area with many people around, so that you constantly had to be on guard they didn’t accidentally see you or hear you muffle your screams… 

I knew _exacty_ just how wrong these kinds of situations and circumstances were or could turn out to be – and yet, it still made my blood boil in anticipation.

So when a _very_ feverish, _very_ sickish Al roughly threw me down on the bed and almost literally _ripped_ my pants off of me, I was more than happy to just let it happen, in spite of my awkwardly spoken words of hesitance.

After all, words of hesitance aren’t all that convincing anymore when your tone of voice is wheezy and dripping with desire and sheer, desperate _need._

“We – we _shouldn’t_ ,” I nevertheless panted, while Alastor slowly pushed up my bra, not even removing it – and I gasped and instinctively gave in to his touch as he enclosed a hand around one of my breasts, lowered his head and moved his hot tongue over its sensitive nipple. I moaned some more when he used his knee to force my legs open and I arched my back in surprise when the licking changed into some slightly more aggressive sucking.

The way I felt his mouth engulf my breast, the way his other hand now started pleasuring my other, neglected nipple, the way he pressed his lower, still clothed body against mine – it all just felt so _right._

However, he was watching my every move carefully – I felt he was. And even though he knew _very_ well when my no’s were _actual_ no’s and when my no’s were silently encouraging him to **_please,_** for the freaking _love of all_ that was _good_ and _holy,_ **_go on_** – he still checked my responses, just to make sure he really, _really_ wasn’t doing anything I didn’t like. 

Realizing that made me feel so _dirty._

And not in a good way. 

I – I just wasn’t playing _fair._

I wouldn’t stop Al from having irresponsible sex with me, not even when the blood in his body was _so extremely hot_ it started to feel almost unbearably uncomfortable against my skin. Because I… just wanted to have him inside of me too much – just longed to have him pound me raw and senseless too much, even if it would eventually hurt him in some way – and I _hated_ that part about myself, I hated it, I hated it, _I hated it_.

Fighting back helpless tears, I let out a whine when he began placing butterfly kisses to my chest. Oh god, I wanted him to just take off his stupid PJ’s and take me already – I was _more_ than ready for it, I _couldn’t_ spread my legs _any wider_ , all he had to do was to take it out and give it to me until I saw stars and couldn’t walk straight anymore and feel terrible about it afterwards.

But none of that happened, as Alastor suddenly passed out. Again.

With his face in-between my boobs.

 _Just like that_.

I didn’t even realize for a while, until I felt the heat on my chest was starting to actually _burn me_ – and when I glanced down to see what the heck he was even doing there… well, I knew enough.

I blinked and didn’t say a word, letting my heartbeat and ragged way of breathing calm down. Then, before I could stop myself, I sneaked a hand into his pants, just to check if my lingering suspicions were right.

They were.

He wasn’t even hard.

All this time – _he hadn’t even been hard_.

He would have done me either way, one way or another, just for me, even when his fever was high enough to knock out an elephant… but I bet he barely even knew what he was doing in the first place.

And yet – he _still_ tried to make sure it in any case wasn’t anything _**I**_ didn’t want.

What a moron.

I sniffled and wiggled around a little, until I could put my arms and legs around him and hug him, kissing the top of his head.

“I-I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

He mumbled something against my skin – a sign he had recovered his consciousness – and when he placed his trembling hands on the sides of my waist and pushed me back a bit, I released him.

“Oh Al,” I stammered, as he flipped on his back and breathed in and out heavily, “S-sorry. I should have made you stop. For _your_ sake. B-but I didn’t.”

“Why are you apologizing?” He looked over at me, having a confused expression on his still so very _red_ face. “Not to be rude, my love, but the last time I checked, it was _me_ who was pushing _you_ down. _Me_ who was adamant on claiming _you._ Even though I knew I… probably shouldn’t have tried to seduce you, judging on the state that I’m in. And yet, I still did.”

I pursed my lips together and stared at him, my eyes still quivering with unshed tears.

“I almost _used_ you. And you would’ve _let_ _me_.”

Alastor seemed alarmed by this statement and moved closer to me, softly caressing my face. I could tell he was looking for something to say, but no words apparently came to mind and he ended up not saying anything. His smile was comforting, though – very comforting. It put me at ease, even if it was just a little bit.

“Please don’t allow me to use you.” I gripped the front of his nightwear and pressed my face against it. “I know you mean well – I _know,_ but – but please _tell me_ when I’m about to cross a line. When I’m about to let you do something… I _shouldn’t_ let you do.”

Al laughed a little, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tightly. I sobbed a bit, and in reply, he kissed my forehead and nuzzled my face afterwards. “Alright then – stop crying, my sweet love, I’m not even angry with you. You didn’t hurt me. Not in the _least._ Also, I think you might be overreacting: I have nothing against being ‘used’ by you every once in a while, to be honest. But, if it soothes you, I promise you I’ll keep it in mind, for complex situations like these.”

“I’m…” I started – then choked up. I really didn’t know if I was ready to tell him… what I was about to tell him.

“Hmm?” he hummed, now pressing his forehead to mine. “Something on your mind, dear?”

I wanted to continue my sentence, I wanted to tell him something I probably should have told him sooner, maybe even before we got into a relationship – before we had sex for the first time. 

But I didn’t say that specific something.

“No… f-forget it, Al.” I sighed.

He didn’t buy it – I was a terrible liar, after all. But he didn’t push and he didn’t pry, either. Instead, he simply kissed me. 

“Perhaps… tell me later?” he asked afterwards.

I smiled feebly and kissed him back when he placed his lips onto mine once more.

“Mmwaybe.”   
  


**CcC  
  
**

Over the next week, Alastor gradually felt better.

Thanks to Doctor Hubermann’s medicines, his fever went down, his skin got its usual, gray hue back and it was getting harder and harder for me to keep him in bed. Since he _still_ was an _atrocious_ sleeper, I wanted him to take this opportunity to catch up on some well-needed sleep – and even though he admitted that this indeed would be the perfect chance for him to rest up in like a hundred years, I often caught him wandering around the hotel _anyway,_ like a _total douchebag._

He didn’t even have the decency to look guilty or run away whenever I caught him being out of bed again – nope, he’d just directly come over to me, charmingly kiss my hand and tell me how lovely I looked, with those half-lidded eyes of his – and if I then grumpily (and blushing _heavily,_ since his flirting game had been getting better) dragged him back to the bedroom again, he’d just happily let me, laughing out loud, not having a care in the world.

I understood why he constantly did this, though: he was getting bored, and a bored Al could either be crazily annoying or crazily _dangerous_ – so instead of nagging at him, I just counted my blessings and played along with this weird little game of hide-and-seek. I mean, as long as he was willingly letting himself get put into bed time after time, I would willingly put up with looking for him and getting him back underneath the covers. It was a silent agreement we had with one another.

Alastor _could_ be persuaded to stay in bed, though: during break time, he never left his bed at all, since he and I would then read our books together. It would be quiet in the bedroom – just me and him, holding hands and reading books. It still baffled me how easily this extremely extraverted man could shut up, as long as you gave him something to read. He also promised me to behave at night… as long as I slept in the same bed as him. I had tried to sleep apart from him for a couple of days in the beginning phase of his sickness, until _multiple_ hotel tenants had come to me with dark circles underneath their eyes, begging me to _please_ do something about Alastor’s sudden late-night radio broadcasts and his invisible audience, making enough racket to even wake Husk up from his drunken dreams.

So… no, it wasn’t easy to take care of a man as unpredictable and rampant as Al was – and you could imagine my (and the rest of the hotel’s inhabitants’) intense relieve when, _finally,_ his fever had gone down to a healthy, normal temperature.   
  


**CcC  
  
**

It was at nighttime, after I had already put on my nightgown and plucked the thermometer out of his mouth for what proved to be the last time.

“99.2°F.” I looked up from the instrument to beam a smile at Alastor. “Looks like your fever’s gone, Al! You’re all better now! Um, I think.”

“You _think_?” he repeated, his hands neatly folded on top of the sheets, looking very well-mannered and not at all like the freaking _troll_ that had been _sneaking out of bed at least twenty times_ today. “What makes you hesitate about that, my love?”

I put away the thermometer and got into bed as well. “Your hand. I know it’s still hurting.”

His uneven eyes automatically wandered to his right hand, studying it. Mine did so as well. His hand hadn’t gotten more…swollen or irritated, the both of us noticed, but it did still hinder Al in his every day-to-day life. He was right-handed, after all… but now that his right hand sometimes hurt too much to even do the simplest tasks, he more or less _had_ to use his left hand more often. Or those black… vine-things of his. He tried to hide his pain as much as possible and his eternal smile was present as it always was, but – I knew. And he was aware of that, so he didn’t try to cover it up around _me_ many longer. 

Well – that at least was _something_ he no longer hid from me, I suppose… got to count my blessings. 

“Oh well,” Alastor said, as I restlessly combed my fingers through my hair, “no pain no gain, my mother always used to say! I’m sure the pain will eventually fade away. I probably just have to be patient.”

“Hmm,” I contemplated, before settling down and pulling up the covers of the bed. 

Alastor killed the light and followed my example, and after a few rustles, he lay down as well.

“Did your father experience some pains with his scarred skin as well?” he asked, after a short silence.

Even the _mention_ of my stupid father made my face crumple up in protest. “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps we should go visit him and the Queen soon,” Alastor then suggested – and although it was dark, I managed to give him this perplexed, shocked stare anyway, straight through the darkness of the night.

“Yeah, _sure_ – and maybe we should also take a dip in one of the many lava pits around the Royal Palace! That sounds like a wonderfully _stupid_ idea as well!”

He simply ignored my sarcastic remark. “My dear, you can’t avoid them for the rest of your life.”

I let out a disdainful snort. “Oh just you _watch me_.” 

A chuckle – and a hand, patting the top of my head. “Now now – you always sound so _venomous_ when you’re talking about your parents, my love.”

“I don’t trust them.” I frowned and pulled the sheets up a bit higher. “I don’t care what you and dad say. I’m sure… I’m sure they wanted to get rid of you. And even if that _wasn’t_ so, they still treat you like you’re the biggest scum Hell has to offer – and yes, sure, you _are_ a pretty huge scumbag—”

“I love you, too.”

Now it was my turn to ignore him, so I did. 

“—but Hell is filled with sinners that are much, _much_ worse than you are.” I paused. “With ex-lovers that… have treated me more terrible than you _ever_ did.”

His hand stopped patting me and instead, just rested itself on my head, gently rubbing my scalp. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Why would you want to visit them?” I turned myself until I was lying on my side, so that I could look directly at him. “You never cared all that much about mom and dad. Why the change of heart all of a sudden?” 

Al retracted his hand and laid on his side as well. “Two reasons.”

“Shoot.”

“Reason one is a selfish one: like I said, your dad might know what I could do about that pain in my hand. I’d already like to talk to him just for _that,_ if you must know.”

I nodded, appreciating his honesty. “Fair enough. And the second reason?” 

“The second reason is… I think it would be good for you to have a decent talk with your parents – no no no, don’t look away now – _listen_ to me. And _look_ at me. Then I know you _are_ listening to me,” Alastor said, swiftly grabbing my chin and raising it up again as I was angrily turning my face downwards. 

“Hello there,” he grinned, when my fiery, unwilling eyes met his.

I grumbled and attempted to push his claw-like, painful hand off my face, but Al, as always, had an iron grip and didn’t let go. 

“My darling Charlie, you’re suffering because of everything that has happened – with me, with that Angel that came down from Heaven, with my scars and sickness,” Alastor said, not even mildly effected by my struggling. “I realize that all too well. Your parents’ negligence and distrust in you have made you bitter towards them – have sullied your beautiful heart. And yes, you’re absolutely right: I don’t care about your parents, not at _all_ even, ho ho ho – but I _do_ care about _you_.”

I finally stopped tugging on his hand and glared sharply at him, even though my treacherous cheeks still warmed up a bit after hearing him say he cared about me. I mean, I _knew,_ but still. It was always nice to hear. A sweet reminder.

Now that I no longer fought against his pointy grasp, Alastor’s hold around my face loosened up – and his voice grew friendlier, more affectionate. “I firmly believe you will feel better once you have had a good and long talk with them, my princess. A _real_ talk. About you and everything that has been bothering you. Air it all out. Vent a little. Vent a _lot._ Clear that hurt heart of yours, my love, and I can promise you you _will_ feel better.”

I had obediently listened to him – but now, I couldn’t help but furrow my brow.

“Al – you know I’ve had struggles with my parents for _centuries,_ right?”

“Yes.”

“You _really_ believe just a few talks can fix all of that?”

Alastor wasn’t intimidated by my fierce look and smiled. “I believe it’s a _start,_ Charlie.”

“Easy for you to say.” I huffed and closed my eyes for a bit as he thoughtlessly massaged my cheeks – my face always was such a fascinating thing for him. “You didn’t have problems with _your_ parents. You wouldn’t know what it’s like.”

“I like to remind you to the fact that I _do_ actually detest my father, for completely useless and quite baseless reasons. He was a good father and a hard-working husband, after all. And yet, I still hate him for stupidly dying on me and my mother before he had even turned thirty. At least _I_ lasted a bit longer than that.” He gave one of my cheeks a pinch. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is… since he’s in Heaven and I’m _here,_ I _don’t_ have the possibility to discuss all of my frustrations with him. I _can’t_ try and mend things with my old man. _Ever._ But you, Charlie – you _can_.”

I felt a bit ashamed now and quietly thought about his words for a while. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into… well, even more minutes, but Alastor calmly let the minutes pass by as I made up my mind.

“I – I guess we could… pay them a visit, in about a couple of days…” I murmured. 

“We could,” he agreed.

“And talk about things.”

“Indeed.”

“I’m… I’m not sure…”

“Hmm?”

“What if things just get worse?” I gave Al a nervous look. “Wh-what if… what if it _can’t_ be repaired? What if it’s too late for us?”

“Then you, at the very least, have tried,” he reasoned. “And you won’t have to suffer from that horrible ‘what-if’-feeling any longer. That, I think, will probably be a load off your chest in and on itself.”

I stared at his unfazed expression. Wow, it kind of amazed me how well-informed Alastor seemed to be on this topic. But he was right: no matter how aloof I tried to be and act about mom and dad, I wouldn’t be honest if I claimed the problematic relationship I had with my parents wasn’t bugging me. I had the luxury of having both of my parents nearby, while a lot of Hell’s sinners _didn’t,_ and maybe never _would_ have, either. Whether they liked it or not. Therefore, I should do my best to save… what there was left to save, between me, mom and dad. 

So, I sighed deeply, which thankfully caused the anxious throbbing in my chest to lessen a whole lot.

“I’ll give mom a call tomorrow.”

“You can think it over,” Alastor assured me. “You don’t need to take the plunge right away, if you need some more time.”

But I resolutely shook my head. “Nope, too late, I made up my mind now. I’ll call them tomorrow and I hope we’ll be able to visit them as soon as possible. Better to just get it over with, am I right?”

To that, Alastor only smiled. He seemed very satisfied, like everything had already come to a nice and perfect conclusion. I… begged to differ, really… I doubted everything would go as smoothly as Alastor, with all of his cunning and charm, believed… but I did hope he was right.

I… I hoped it with all of my unsure, yet optimistic heart.  
  


**CcC**   
  


After all of that was decided, I yawned and wiggled myself in-between the sheets a bit more, shutting my eyes. Talking and thinking about my parents had tired me out more than I had expected, I noticed, so maybe it would be better to just have some shut-eye right now.

“You’re going to sleep?” I heard Alastor ask, right next to me.

“As you can see,” I jokingly shot back.

“We could do something _else_ but sleep, though.”

“...h-huh?”

“Come here, Charlie.” 

And with that, Al’s arms were suddenly all over me, pulling me against his warm (but not _burning_ ) body. My hands curled into tight fists as his lips found mine and worked their magic on them, kissing me thoroughly – way too thoroughly for just a simple good-night kiss. I mean, at a certain point, his deep kisses grew _so_ demanding his tongue was practically _choking me_ and the intensity of this sudden outburst of impatient passion made me both woozy as well as – well – kind of _excited._

Somehow though, I knew to successfully push him back a little – my hands shaking, my way of breathing all over the place and my face hot and wet at the same time. Al was _still at it_ , though. Determinedly, his hands gripped my nightgown and he planted a sloppy kiss in the nape of my neck, temporarily taking my breath away just a _little_ bit more.

I started to gasp. “N-n-no. M-maybe we shouldn’t, Al. N-not yet. Maybe… maybe just – just wait one more day, just to be sure.”

Alastor – also out of breath, also shaking – was so caught off guard by my half-assed, yet urgent rejection, I could almost see the grin fall right off his face, as he stared at me with a look that was a wild mix of genuine confusion and…

…oh my god, was that _lust_? 

Alastor was actually _aroused_?

“Are you sure?” he breathed. “I – thought you would like to – after a _week_ …”

I gulped when I felt he was casually pulling up my modest nightdress. “It’s – it’s not like I don’t _want_ to have sex with you… but… what if you’re… what if you get a setback?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You think me making love to you would make a fever reappear out of nowhere?”

“Uhm…”

“I don’t think fevers work like that, my love.” Still, he gave in and I felt his touch disappear from my skin. “But if it puts your mind at ease, I’ll hold back. Sweet dreams, Charlie!”

There was a final chaste peck to my lips that lingered deliciously for a little while – but then he indeed _immediately_ held back: all of him retreated _so damn rapidly_ , I felt a big shiver running over my spine, my hopeless, craving body and sizzling brains wondering if this had been the right decision after all.  
  


**CcC  
  
**

NO IT HADN’T.

I was _horny,_ dammit!

I was _so horny_ it wasn’t even funny anymore!

What the hell was I _thinking_?

I had wanted to have sex, _he_ had wanted to have sex, and yet, I had just... _shoved him away_ , the _only_ person who was allowed to stick his dick, fingers and tongue into me. I shooed him away, like a total _idiot,_ and now here I was, all hot and bothered and too afraid to do/say something _stupid_ again to roll over and beg Al to _please_ plow me into the mattress anyway, because _yes,_ it _had_ _been a week_ , and _god I wanted him I wanted him I wanted him so badly_ — 

Maybe I had brought this upon myself.

Maybe – maybe _this_ was how I’d unwittingly punish myself, for almost having sex with Al a couple of days ago, when he clearly wasn’t in shape to do so: by holding off a rare, sexually aroused Alastor that was actually taking initiative. He did that more often these days, sure, but still – it was an uncommon occurrence.

And now I was going to miss out on it. 

A fitting punishment for a being that was partly succubus – it was so fitting, I could almost cry.

Dammit. 

Dammit, dammit, _dammit.  
  
_

**CcC  
  
**

Well, then there was just one option left for me, right: I’d have to masturbate.

Oh _god._

It – wasn’t _that_ big of a deal. It wasn’t like I _never_ masturbated… I mean, sometimes, you just _have_ to, right? Like when you’re lying in bed, knowing that there’s a naughty wetness trickling into your cute, innocent underwear that won’t go away… and you just _have_ to do something about it. Yes, _you_ and _you alone_ have to do something about it; your lover isn’t able to help you out this time, since they A: can’t/don’t want to have sex, B: are asleep, or Secret Special Option C: are actually _very much_ up for it, but you have denied them any access to your panties, because you are a finicky loser that doesn’t know to make up their damn mind.

I swallowed – then I swallowed again, and waited until Al’s breathing got a steady rhythm, twisting my legs together (and only making things _worse_ that way, somehow) anxiously.

Too bad I had _no clue_ what Alastor’s steady breathing sounded like, since I always dozed off long before _he_ did.

Okay, no problem. No problem at all. I – I just needed to wait a little bit longer. Just… just a little longer… 

I had touched myself in the presence of sleeping/unaware bedpartners before. Apparently, pleasuring yourself like some sort of bean-flicking ninja was one of the few good things about being a half-succubus: I could orgasm as quietly as possible. I don’t think even _one_ of my former partners had ever noticed me secretly bringing myself to my own climax, and if they _had_ been aware of that, they somehow _never_ chose to inform me about it.

I – hadn’t masturbated in Al’s nearby presence before yet (which… actually was pretty _remarkable,_ considering his low sex drive), but I dared to say I could probably finger myself _all night_ with him snoring away right next to me and he’d _still_ not have the faintest idea of what I was actually doing. 

Well… I guess I was about to find out now, huh? 

For at least half an hour, I laid there, wiggling around and feeling very uncomfortable, and waited for Al to fall asleep. I sneakily peeked over to his back every now and then, vaguely wondering why he hadn’t insisted on holding me: he most of the time wanted to hold me in his arms, since he claimed he slept better then and because I wouldn’t start to trash around and accidentally kick him out of bed.

(That last thing had already happened once; it was pretty hilarious even: he, miraculously enough, had been _fast asleep_ when I had violently removed him from the bed that one time and he had just _continued sleeping_ on the ground, where I had found him the very next morning.)

Oh well. Al hadn’t been keen on holding me when he had that high fever either, so he possibly just needed some time to get used to sleeping with me in his arms again. 

In any case, after thirty minutes or so, I told myself I had waited long enough, and, just to be extra, _extra_ careful, I – skillfully! – slithered away from Al’s still figure even further. Then, when I was really close to the edge (no pun intended, I swear), I turned away from him, pulled up my nightgown, put the hem in my mouth – both to keep the gown up and to keep me from making too much noise – and hastily wormed my way out of my panties. When I tossed them aside, I took one last glance over my shoulder, as my hand already gingerly brushed over my lower belly.

Still no sign of any movement.

Okay then.

I turned back, breathed in deeply, closed my eyes and slowly began to press my own ring and middle ringer inside of me, my misty thoughts already fabricating something so fantasize abou—

The fabric of my night gown promptly fell out of my mouth and a sudden shriek was drawn out of me at exactly the same time when I was suddenly grabbed from behind – and roughly dragged over to Al’s side of the bed. Before I could even process what was going on, I was constricted against a well-known chest. I smelled a familiar scent and then, I also felt a just as familiar hand, grabbing the wrist of the hand within my legs, halting it – then removing it altogether. 

“What are you doing, Charlie?”

Alastor didn’t even sound angry or mad – just curious, really, and highly amused.

“J- _Jesus_ , Al,” I stuttered, “I-I thought you were sleeping!”

“And _I_ thought you weren’t being completely honest with me. Looks like at least one of us got it right.”

He gave my neck a teasing nip. I moaned in response, not even trying to hold back my voice – I was way too elated he was finally touching me the way I wanted him to touch me. It felt so heavenly when his eager fingers replaced mine and disappeared in-between my thighs.

“From now on,” he muttered, as he then slowly, _so very slowly_ began to sink multiple fingers into my begging womanhood, lifting up one of my legs with his other hand, “I want you to be _very clear_ to me. _Especially_ about your sexual needs.”

“Mhm-hm,” I replied, gasping softly upon feeling his fingers move in and out, in and out, in and out, in a calm, almost mechanical manner. It drove me insane with wanton and need.

“I’m not a particular specialized professional when it’s about making love.” He rearranged himself a bit differently, so that holding up my leg wouldn’t take too much effort. “I don’t always make the right decision when it’s about these activities, if you’re not being _explicitly honest_ about what it is you want.” 

I raised a hand to my face to try and stifle my own lewd noises, while Al rubbed his face against the back of my shoulder and gave my sweaty and hot skin a couple of hard, yet loving bites. He lazily lapped up the wounds’ traces of blood afterwards.

“ _Three times_ you rejected my advances, my love, of which two attempts were rightfully denied: I was too sick, I admit it, and I’m happy you stopped me in time. However, the _third_ time, just now... I don’t understand why you rejected me that third time.”

“I…” I tried to say, but my words died right in my throat as Alastor pushed his fingers in so deep I couldn’t even form words anymore. I almost bit my own hand from the crude delight it spread inside of me.

He continued, his voice getting less smooth and more – _ragged,_ like my own was. Ragged and uneven, his breath against my neck warm and trembling with desire. 

“That third time… this night… I felt better, you… well, you were… and still _are_ dripping with your thirst, all of that lovely, wonderful thirst, all for _me_ and me alone, and yet… you still pushed me away.”

His fingers suddenly left me – and I felt weirdly empty, quivering and gasping, my leg still stiffly hanging up in the air. I could feel him move behind me, though – I knew he was getting himself out of his pants, at least partly. I could also feel the big bulge he had hidden there for so long – _way_ too long, and I forced myself to speak – I needed to speak, I needed to tell him.

“I – I… didn’t know if I deserved—”

“You deserved it. You deserve everything. Well – everything _good,_ that is. Now. If that’s all you needed to say, I will now… make you mine. Very much mine.”

Oh.

I had to laugh a bit at his awkwardly-spoken words, even if my laughter did come out in short-winded huffs and puffs, and I clumsily arched an arm back there, over my shoulder, so that I could – somehow – put a hand on him. It fell flat against his face, so I probably was caressing/slapping his cheek now.

“That’s right – make me very much yours, Al. Very very.”

He huffed, slightly embarrassed. “I’m trying to be extremely _sultry_ and _brooding_ here, Charlie, please don’t make things weird now.”

“Oh but I love it when you make things weird, darling.”

I didn’t care I couldn’t see his face, I felt the surprised blush blooming on his face even from this position. He cleared his throat. “I—”

“And I also love _you.”_ I interrupted him with a smile he could not even see, and teasingly rubbed and grinded my lower body against his impressive erection. “Now – now make some stupid love to me, you big— _ahhn_.”

It wasn’t easy for me to keep on talking when Al pushed his dick into my pulsating entrance, so I didn’t. He held on to me firmly as he began moving, firstly ramming me senseless with deep, slow thrusts – then alternating with shallow, quick ones. 

I firstly didn’t remember if I had kept my voice down or not, things went a bit too fast and too brutal for that. I _did_ remember hearing Al’s lustful grunts right near my ear, feeling his one hand clench around my sweaty upper leg, feeling his other hand send mind-blowingly sharp sparks of pure pleasure throughout my whole receptive body as he rubbed me in time with his thrusts, and it was ridiculously _good,_ oh my god – it was good – it _just was so good_.

It wasn’t until later - not very much later but still quite a _while_ later, when I absentmindedly licked my wet lips and waited for (a still very hard-working) Al behind me to get to the same peak I had reached a few moments earlier, that I realized that I - blissfully spent, twitching contently in his fierce grip - apparently had never closed my mouth during the whole messy process.

So my hazy thoughts came to the conclusion that, no, I _hadn't_ kept my voice down, and as I sensed Al was reaching his orgasm - I guessed neither would _he._  
  


**CcC  
  
**

After that, Alastor gave me ten minutes to catch my breath before he flipped me onto my back, hoarsely told me to brace myself and, well, resolutely put his head in-between my legs. My legs opened up for him – enthusiastically, automatically, without _any_ hesitance _whatsoever,_ as I managed to take a deep breath and dazedly put my hands on top of his hair. And then I felt him kiss me and tongue me down there, forcefully licking his way inside of me, effortlessly making me scream, throw back my head and press him into me. I climaxed again within mere minutes, hungry as I was for more and more – and I didn’t even feel ashamed for coming undone _this_ soon after the first orgasm. 

As my chest heaved up and down rapidly and Al sat up again, I was fairly sure that _that_ was it, really – but no, Alastor wanted to have none of that. 

He, _somehow,_ had enough energy to make me orgasm _again,_ gliding inside of me a couple of minutes after I had come that second time, rewarding my surprised, yet ecstatic yelps because of his not-unwelcome intrusion with a seething-hot kiss. He hummed approvingly when I hooked my legs around him and hauled him in, and he took me in his arms, pressing me down to the mattress and smothering me with sound, fond, earnest kisses, all on my gasping, greedy mouth, over and over again.

I clung to him, overstimulated and intoxicated by his burning desire for me, for my body, for _everything_ that was part of me – and I tasted him, and tasted me, and tasted us, and that was enough.  
  


**CcC**   
  


One-and-a-half weeks of no sex at all, expertly wiped clean out of my memory by this one crazy night, filled with nothing but tingling excitement and klutzy, yet fiery passion. 

I had had nights like these before, with other, former lovers – lovers that literally kept me going for hours and hours. Three humps in a row wasn’t all that impressive when you were horny for one another and in love. However, this was _Al_ we were talking about. And for him, this was a personal record. 

Good for him – and good for _me,_ too.

So when he finally crashed down on me after that last, third round, absolutely _exhausted_ and sensitive all over his body, I didn’t mind he was already fast asleep before his head had even landed my chest.

It… _would_ have been kind of nice if he had pulled out before doing so, though. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seven good fairies are invited to the banquet at the palace, to celebrate the christening of a Princess. Each of them has a gift for the little Princess (wit, beauty, grace, sang, dance and goodness). All is well, until, right before the seventh fairy is about to gift the Princess something, an old fairy bursts in. She wasn’t invited to the festivities – and she is _not_ happy about that. Her ‘gift’ for the Princess therefore is a curse: she will one day prick her finger on a spindle and die. When she leaves, the last, seventh fairy attempts to lessen the horrible curse: instead of dying, the girl will fall asleep for a hundred years, only to be awakened by a kiss from a King’s son. However, the King and Queen still aren’t too psyched about such a fate, and have all of the spindles in the Kingdom be destroyed.  
> It’s no use: sixteen years pass, and the Princess eventually discovers a spindle. She pricks her hand on the spindle and promptly falls asleep. One of the fairies enchants the rest of the Kingdom as well, so that the Princess won’t feel lonely once she finally wakes up… and a hundred years pass by. After all those years, a Prince spots the hidden, now completely overgrown palace and braves the trees, the vines and the thorns as he enters the castle. He discovers the sleeping Princess in one of the chambers her grieving parents had put her in, and he falls deeply in love with her. He kisses her, the enchantment comes to an end, and the Princess and Prince are later married.
> 
> This particular (and most popular) version of “Sleeping Beauty” was created by Charles Perrault (1628-1703), a French author. There are more and less… romantic versions of this fairy tale, like its original version by Giambattista Basile (1566-1632), in which the Sleeping Beauty is - pretty much - raped and impregnated in her sleep by a passing King.


	8. The Princess Who Never Smiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already thought the very first artwork [Avo](https://twitter.com/Volker_Evert) made was insanely wonderful, but she actually managed to make _an even more beautiful_ piece of art of "The Library, or The Discovery of Heaven". Just - feast your eyes on [this](https://twitter.com/Volker_Evert/status/1302580474464751616). It's so goddamn pretty it brought tears to my eyes! ^///////^
> 
> Now, as for this chapter… it's time to have another narrator! This week, it's Vaggie. Since… well, things have happened to her. Big, huge things. And now she has to deal with them.
> 
> (Also, I sneaked a rather obscure Pokémon-reference into this chapter, like the nerd I am. Invisible cookies for those who are able to spot it!)

Okay, now listen. _Listen._

Before you start judging me, just… keep in mind that we _all_ do some crazy and stupid things in life, at one point (or in the afterlife – whatever floats your boat). It’s not like we really _want_ these things to happen to us and it’s not like we actively _search_ for them, but sometimes, life’s just a bitch like that, you end up in a very tricky situation and then all that’s there left to do for you is to just _accept_ the facts as they are and try to come to terms with the consequences.

Even if you end up in somebody else’s bed. 

The bed of somebody you _really_ didn’t expect to end up in. 

Since you’re supposed to be a proud lesbian and all that.

…

Oh my fucking _god,_ what did I _do_?!

  
**VvV**

  
I already knew shit had hit the fan in the most absurd way possible when I woke up and stared right into the pink snout of that stupid pig of his – seriously, that was the first thing I saw in the morning – just that PIG-FACE. 

If I had been a bit more like Charlie (who's adorably clueless and naive), I’d have thought that Fat Nuggets had somehow managed to find his way into my bedroom. It wasn’t a totally bizarre thought, to be honest; that annoying miniature swine had successfully infiltrated more bedrooms before, like that one time it must have felt suicidal, had gone for Charlie’s bedroom and subsequently was almost eaten by a very irritated and also hungry Alastor.

But as I grunted, harshly pushed the pig out of my face and sat up, taking in my surroundings and realizing in horror that they didn’t look familiar to me, it didn’t take me all that long to come to the logical conclusion that _mistakes had been made_ the night before.

Look – I – I had felt lonely, okay? I had felt miserable and lonely.

Over the last few weeks, Charlie had been way too occupied with taking care of that sick asshole boyfriend of hers. She was busier than ever: if she wasn’t taking care of the hotel’s management, she was at Alastor’s side, nursing him, feeding him soup, reading books with him and – what I had gathered from the loud yelping last night – getting fucked into oblivion by him. 

I had gotten over her – hell, I was basically _forced_ to, Charlie and Alastor happily reminded me they were dating and very much in love _every fucking day_ – but that didn’t mean I was completely immune to the sounds of her, laughing because of something _he_ had said. Her, smiling affectionately – at _him,_ because of _his_ mere presence. Her, holding on to _his_ hand. Her, failing to hold back her whimpers because of something _he_ was doing to her.

I didn’t exactly feel jealousy towards Alastor anymore, but all of this reminded me of the fact that I was _single_ now, and as much as I tried to hide it, I… I wasn’t good at being single. Not while I was still alive and not after I had died, either. When I woke up in Hell, Charlie had always been there for me, almost right from the start. She maybe wasn’t the first girl I had slept with when I came to in Hell, but she certainly was the first _special_ one. The one I soon considered my… my life partner. I… had actually wanted to make her feel safe and happy.

Now that she had found someone _else_ to make her feel safe and happy – and now that even _I_ was convinced that this someone else was _very,_ almost _comically_ serious about her and her happiness – I began to feel… overlooked. Like nobody even noticed me anymore. Like I wasn’t really needed anymore. I mean, Alastor was helping out a lot more with the hotel these days, that stupid, love-struck pain in the ass. Heck, he had even gotten our permission to take over the hotel on Sundays – that’s just how big his role had become.

Still didn’t trust that smiling son of a bitch, but whatever. 

Meanwhile, I was just… _there._ Filling up space. Snarling at others whenever they did something I didn’t like, taking care of the things the other staff members somehow hadn’t done already. Like an unwanted intern. 

I – I was pretty sure nobody even _liked_ me, save for Charlie.

_“What’re ya even going on about, toots? Loads of peeps here like you! Even I like you!”_

I cringed when I remembered his words from last night and wrapped the sheets around me a bit tighter.

Oh god – now it all came back to me, too.

  
**VvV**

  
I was sitting outside, in the hotel’s backyard - I had been so _exhausted,_ I could barely stand up anymore. After all of my tasks had been taken care of for the rest of the evening and after Charlie had thanked me for my hard work, she told me she was going to bed. Upon hearing _that,_ I, for some reason, just couldn’t handle it anymore – and fled out of the hotel, as soon as Charlie had gone upstairs. I found an unattended, green bench made of cast iron, hidden in-between some high, flesh-eating bushes, and just allowed myself to sit there and let it all come out.

Then, after god-knows-how-long, the bench suddenly creaked and somebody sat down next to me. I didn’t even have to look up to find out who it was – just seeing those insanely long legs of his all stretched-out next to mine was enough.

“Leave me the fuck alone, you bastard,” I automatically nagged.

“Naaah, don’t feel like it,” came the unimpressed answer, “ya know, I think I’m just gonna sit here for a little while longer. How about that?”

“Great. Whatever.” I pulled up my knees and pressed my face into them. “See if I fucking care.”

“Uh-huh. By the way, Vags, just how long are ya plannin' to sit here and weep yer face off?”

“Six hundred years and three months.”

He snickered. “Well ain’t _that_ specific.”

“ _Piss off_ already!” I all of a sudden looked up from my knees and gave him the angriest look I had in my arsenal, gritting my teeth and glaring daggers at him. “Can’t you see I’m not in the mood for your stupid pranks and antics? Don’t the snot and the tears tip you off? Those are _not_ some fucking decoration choices I made, you _ass_! I’m _tired_! I’m _sad_! I’m—!”

“Lonely?” he finished.

My lips quivered and I nodded, looking away. I didn’t want anybody to see me cry. Not him, not Charlie, not _anybody._ There was a reason why I had decided to sit outside, dammit!

“Oh sure, but… you could’ve gone to yer own room, ya know.” He sighed. “Kinda _dumb move_ to cry _here,_ all out in the open. What if some nasty sinners catch you? Ya know how _mean_ those dicks can be, especially when they’re from outside the hotel.”

I gripped my legs. “There are bushes covering—”

“Those bushes ain’t coverin' _shit_ and ya _know it_ , toots.”

“You damn – you know what, _fine_! Okay! I’ll just go back inside then!”

“Whoa, whoa! Calm the hell down already, woman!”

He snatched my hand when I stood up and wanted to pull me back down. I recoiled, hissed in response and jerked myself free out of his grasp.

“ _Don’t_ you fucking _touch me_!”

“Alright, alright, for fuck’s sake!” He gave me a chagrined look and held up his hands. “I’m not touching you, alright? See? I can’t touch you when my hands are in the air like this – and nowadays I only got two of them anyways, so sit yer bitchy ass _down_ and _relax_ a little!”

I didn’t sit down right away. But I didn’t leave, either.

In the end, since he didn’t make any snarky comments about my unstable mood, I hesitantly sat down on the bench again and – slowly, and very softly at first – started talking about my frustrations. Mostly about the loneliness, really, and about how I felt that nobody in the hotel actually liked me anyway. How obvious _that_ had become to me, now that Charlie had Alastor to keep her warm at night. 

He laughed out loud, like I had told him a perfect joke. “What’re ya even going on about, toots? _Loads_ of peeps here like you! Even _I_ like you!”

I stared at him.

“You _like_ me?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Not like _that,_ I guess, don’t get yer hopes up or anything, but still: I like you. You’re pretty fun and cool to hang out with, as long as you’re not angrily cussing me out or yelling random Spanish things.”

I folded my arms together and frowned deeply. “If you don’t give me _reasons_ to curse and yell at you, I _won’t_ curse or yell at you.”

“Ya won’t?”

“No.”

“ _Really_?”

“No. Maybe.”

“Oh so _now_ it’s a maybe?”

“Maybe. Yes.”

“You’re fuckin’ _confusing,_ Vags.”

“Yes. Shut your trap.” 

Out of nowhere and without a warning, I chuckled. It started out weakly, but soon, my suppressed chuckles transformed into actual, genuine laughter – it was just such a weird conversation, really, but it apparently had come at exactly the right time. He looked at me as I was laughing, his eyes all big and surprised, like he had never heard me laugh before. Then, he began to grin as well, and next thing I know, the both of us were laughing and wheezing, our bodies shaking with contentment.

“You’re such a fucking _ass_ ,” I managed to get out, wiping the tears – another, _better_ kind of tears – of out my single eye. I wanted to say something to him, maybe even make another comment that would make him snicker some more and give me back that bubbly, carefree feeling I had experienced just now, but then, well…

Let’s just say I then found out the hard way that Alastor, like Charlie had told me a little while ago, was pretty much over his goddamn fever. 

And both Charlie and Alastor had apparently decided to _loudly_ celebrate that. With _open windows_ , so that _everybody else_ would know about it as well, because of _course_ they had forgotten to close those windows.

Just like that, our laughter came to an abrupt end. As the noises above us grew extremely R-rated and more passionate with every passing second, I felt my heart withdraw itself deeper and deeper into my chest. New tears were already impatiently awaiting their turn to slide down my face – but before any of that could happen, all of the sounds were suddenly blocked out as he put his hands over my ears and angrily looked up at the windows – as if _that_ would stop them, as if Charlie and Alastor would suddenly pause their lovemaking to hurriedly shut the windows and later tell us that they were sorry for disturbing our lovely little moment.

Still, I was touched.

I was touched he’d try to shield me like that.

I eventually cried anyway – I felt I did – but I smiled and snorted a bit through the tears, grabbing the lower portion of his shirt, grateful to have something to hold on to.

“If only you still had more arms,” I heard myself say.

A slow, strange, stressful moment passed in which my comment simply hung in the air, floating, waiting carefully on what would happen next. 

Without a sound and without warning, he then pulled me closer than he had ever done before, shutting out all of the noises in another, astonishingly welcome way.

  
**VvV**

  
So I totally let Angel Dust take me to his room and pity-fuck me, then I went back to my own room and then we all pretended this had never happened. The end.

Except that NO, it HADN’T ended yet, because I was STILL SITTING HERE, with my SLEEPY, BARE ASS AND BOOBS, and when I carefully climbed out of the bed, I had to wince, since there was _icky stuff leaking out of me oh my fucking GOD OH NO OH NO_.

I shivered in utter, absolute _disgust,_ then growled, twirled around to glare at Angel’s snoozing, passed out, lanky body lying just a bit further away from me, drool dripping on the mattress, out of that _stupidly-smiling_ mouth of his, and I was _this_ close – this _fucking clos_ e to cutting his cock off and slap him in the face with it, when I kindly reminded myself that if I _did_ do that, I would only make things worse and more awkward for myself.

So I swallowed my anger and quickly slipped into one of his dresses: he had enough of those anyway – _Christ,_ I bet he could dress an entire _orphanage_ with them. After getting dressed, I flipped him off one last time (I didn’t care he was too unconscious to see it, it felt good and that’s what mattered) and then made my way out of the bedroom. Out out _out_ – as fast and quietly as I fucking could.

Only to bump into _freaking Charlie_ , who had been about to knock on the door.

  
**VvV**

  
“V- _Vaggie_?” she stammered, as I shrieked, jumped back and almost crashed into Angel’s bedroom door.

I _flawlessly_ regained my composure, though – having been a prostitute in my life before this afterlife (and therefore having been in similar situations like this one) finally came in handy. Calmly, I straightened my back, stroke the folds out of Angel’s dress and cleared my throat.

“Yes, it is me. Vaggie. Hello, Charlie.”

Yes. Very flawless indeed.

Too bad I sounded like a goddamn _robot_!

Charlie watched me internally panic for a little while, all without knowing what was going on, and tilted her head, just a bit. “What were you doing in Angel Dust’s room?”

“What I was doing in there? Waking his sleazy ass up, of course,” I heard myself say, this time actually sounding like myself again. “It’s almost time for breakfast, after all! Right?”

Maybe God had decided I had suffered enough in Hell already, because, _miraculously_ , Charlie nodded, saying that it was indeed almost 8 o’clock, which was breakfast time in our hotel (except on Sundays – but we don’t talk about Sundays). Charlie also indirectly confirmed my suspicions that she was busy making her usual rounds, getting late and unwilling sinners out of their beds. Angel Dust had been the next one on her list.

“But now I don’t have to wake Angel up anymore, because you’ve taken care of him already,” she grinned. 

“Oh yes,” I said, “I _sure_ have taken care of _him,_ don’t you worry about that.”

Charlie – who thankfully seemed to take the bait – beamed yet another dazzling smile at me. Hmm. Looks like last night’s… _festivities_ had done her good. I could tell she had some difficulties with walking or even just standing still, but the happiness was radiating right off of her. For how long hadn’t Alastor been able to have sex with her? A week or so? He must have felt like he had to make up for something – and so he had wanted to make sure she’d wobble around in this post-coitus bliss all day.  
  
_Good,_ because he had _certainly_ dodged a dangerous bullet there.

“What a cute dress!” Charlie then cut of my train of thought – and I was on high alert yet again when my friend studied the lacy, breezy fabric of the dress I was wearing. “It’s so _frilly_ though – I thought you didn’t like things with frills?”

Since I could _literally feel_ stuff _slithering down my legs (uuuuugh),_ I backed away from Charlie as subtly as I could. All she had to do was cast her eyes down – and that would be it, the secret would be out, because no matter how oblivious Charlie was, she _wasn’t_ all that naïve when it was about sex, and she fucking _knew_ what semen trickling down your leg looked like. And probably felt like.

I unwittingly looked down at Charlie’s legs. 

She wore pants.

Of fucking _course_ she did!

“Vaggie?” Charlie asked again.

“I – I _sometimes_ like to wear frilly things,” I hastily explained, gulping. “Frilly dresses are like shorts. They’re comfy and easy to wear!”

That was too much – oh shit, that was too out of character, dammit. Charlie stopped admiring the blueish dress and gave me a questioning look. She started opening her mouth – and I dreaded the moment she would ask me if everything was alright, because _nothing_ was alright, and I knew myself well-enough to know I would instantly spill the beans the minute she’d show interest in me, because no matter how much my affections and feelings for her had been snuffed out, I was still weak for her attention. 

Help came from an unexpected source, however, as Alastor _fucking manifested_ himself _right_ next to her all of a sudden, looking even more pompous and overbearingly happy with himself than usual.

“Ah – _there_ you are, my love! I’m sorry to interrupt your lovely dialogue with your obnoxious moth friend, but I fear your assistance is required downstairs. Somebody has apparently strung Bob up by his ankle in the entrance hall and I’d _love_ to help him out, but… well, you know how much I despise touching parasites. Ha ha!”

“Oh god, not _again_ ,” Charlie groaned. “That’s like the tenth time this has happened…”

“Yes, how very awful. I do wonder who’s behind it.” 

Alastor grinned and winked knowingly at me. That _fucker._ I just narrowed my eyes at him and mouthed the words “fuck you”.

He seemed pleased. “I adore you as well, my dear.”

I made an offended, squeaky sound. “That’s NOT what I said and you fucking KNOW IT!”

Charlie swiftly clapped in her hands to get our attention again (and to keep me from kicking her lover’s face in, most likely). “O-okay then, I’ll go fetch the hook for some Bob-airfishing. Al, Vaggie – will the two of you finish my round and wake up the rest of the hotel’s sinners? Thanks! I’ll talk to you later!”

She yanked Alastor down by his bowtie and kissed him on the cheek, before weirdly/briskly walking off. However, before she started making her way down the stairs, she seemed to remember something and looked over her shoulder one more time.

“Oh yes – don’t forget your first therapy session today!”

I wasn’t sure if Charlie said that to remind either me or Alastor (who was rubbing his cheek with this stupid expression) about that _godawful_ prospect, but we both responded as one would have expected of us: Alastor with a loud and harsh laugh, while my face, somehow, got even whiter than Charlie’s.

Oh yeah – _that._

Just when you thought things _couldn’t get any worse_ …

  
**VvV**

  
I hadn’t been too happy about… having to be Alastor’s fucking _therapist._

The shitlord was a _terror._ A fucking lost cause – even Charlie now admitted that much. Sort of. Also, I kind of hated him. In, like, twenty different kinds of ways. Long story short: I didn’t want to be his fucking shrink! I didn’t want to hear whatever diabolical crap was on his mind, I didn’t want to hear what was bothering his disturbed mind and I didn’t want anything to do with him in the _very fucking first place_! Why didn’t Charlie herself become his damn counselor?

“I get your point, but that’s not _professional,_ Vaggie. You see, it’s not really… _ethical_ to be the therapist of your own lover. I mean, don’t you agree that _that_ just makes things too… complicated?” Charlie had reasoned, after it had become clear that I was going to be appointed as Alastor’s shrink.

I had grunted. “As if he’ll tell anybody but you _anything._ He trusts _you_ most out of all of us anyway – there isn’t anything he wouldn’t tell you. He—”

“You’re wrong.” 

Charlie had given me a cool, almost downright _cold_ look – hadn’t a certain sadness in her eyes softened her face somewhat. She didn’t elaborate on her words and she didn’t try to laugh it off; she was just stating a simple, sure fact and I could tell it hurt her to say it out loud.  
  
It caught me off guard and it made me worried, so instead of trying to convince her to ‘give’ Alastor to either Niffty or Husk (look, we just didn’t have that much staff and hiring new people was expensive, okay), I accepted my fate. Eventually, that is: I needed a couple of weeks to get used to the very _idea_ of being a shrink to a motherfucking serial killer, first.

However, I would be lying if I said becoming a therapist – even _Alastor’s_ – didn’t kind of _excite_ me. Getting to be someone who could help out others… it filled me with an uncharted kind of satisfaction. I actually felt like I would finally be doing something… _worthwhile._  
  
See, I had wanted to become an educator in life. I didn’t make it _that_ far, obviously, for all kinds of reasons, but now that I was in Hell, I had gotten another chance to learn something. To _accomplish_ something. To become someone _respectable._ So I (secretively, yet enthusiastically) studied everything about behaviorism, psychology and what-not – and _god,_ being rewarded with that silly little certificate that told me I was a pseudo-official therapist now at the end of that crash course…  
  
…it gave me the best feeling I had felt in _years._

 _I_ had done this. _I_ had pulled this off, by my _own_ hard and diligent work. Nobody had assisted me with this and nobody had told me how to get the best results – all of this, I had done it all by _myself._

At that moment, I was so proud of myself. So – so goddamn _proud._ If only my mother could have seen me. Or my father. Or even my grandmother. They’d take back those true, yet still hurtful things they’d said about me before. They’d forgive me from straying off of the right path. Their eyes would lit up and they’d applaud and cheer for me, and all would be well. 

So…

So I was going to give it my all, dammit – even if one of my clients was Alastor, the fucking Radio Demon that even his very own lover had given up on. Even if I feared it would all be for nothing.

I’d _still_ give it my all, even if it would be the fucking _last_ thing I’d do!

  
**VvV**

  
At 2:15 PM, my ‘therapy time’ with Alastor was in full swing.

I had to be honest: although I was _sure_ Alastor would be a fucking pain in the ass during our very first counsel, those first five to ten minutes actually… went by without anything horrible or noteworthy happening.  
  
I had been wary of him, naturally, _right_ from the moment that yellow-teethed shitstain had entered the therapy room (with a damn _flourish_ even), but he seemed to behave himself well enough, answered my basic, none-too-heavy questions and obediently played the part of a help-seeking client. I even almost started to feel like a legit, honest-to-goodness _professional_ – _that’s_ how smoothly everything seemed to go. 

Almost, though.

_Almost._

“Well, my dear, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, would you kindly tell me what it was like? Sleeping with the perverted spider fellow, I mean?”

I—

I immediately snapped my head up from the clipboard with the scribbles – and I snapped my pencil as well, at the _very same fucking time_. My serious and ‘expert’-attitude up to that point, that had even surprised _me,_ was _instantly_ forgotten, not even leaving a nice, sweet memory behind.

“W-what did you say?” I stammered.

“Oh you heard me _well,_ miss Therapist. I’m not going to repeat myself.” 

Alastor, who had taken a seat on the couch across from the sofa I was sitting in, put one of his ridiculously long legs over the other one and leaned back, grinning contently upon seeing my perplexed, totally overwhelmed expression.  
  
Protesting was no use, I realized that much.

“How?” I found myself asking, putting my shaking clipboard down on my lap. “How – how did you find out?”

“Oh ho ho, well, my dear – I’m _very_ perceptive for these kinds of things!” The Radio Demon leaned forwards a bit and gave me a condescending look, that one red eye of his glowering ominously. “The signs were all there! The **guilt** on your face as Charlie and I met you in the corridor. The way you moved... **differently.** The **tone** of your **voice** and the **panic** in that single pink eye of yours… why, for someone like _me,_ someone who _knows_ to bring up _just_ enough interest in other living beings to find out what makes them tick, what moves them… what **_hurts_** them… it was a matter of adding up all of these to come to the logical conclusion you didn’t spend last night alone.”

I couldn’t swallow anymore for a good few seconds and gripped my throat until it felt like I could breathe again.

“Was… was it that obvious,” I croaked out.

“Oh _heavens_ no! Not at all! No, the spider creature simply told me, that’s it.”

My face fell flat, while Alastor’s invisible radio audience simultaneously started laughing, whistling and applauding for their host. 

“…wait – wait, he _what_?”

“Oh my, don’t you look wonderfully _upset_ now! Are you disappointed?” Alastor let out a roar as well and smacked his knee. “Ha! Truth is, my dear, I absolutely don’t _care_ about you or whatever you have been up to! I only discovered about your naughty escapades when Angel Dust came out of his room this morning, shortly after you had gone to a different floor. He asked me if I had seen either you or his blue frilly dress. I, of course, laughed at him and told him I would whack him on his skanky skull with my microphone stand if he’d come one single step closer to me. Then he said he had slept with you. Just like that!”

“Oh my fucking GOD!” I blurted out.

He nodded understandingly. “Yes, I, too, found his confession a _very_ unusual response to a threat, but oh well.”

“And – and then? Then what happened?”

“Nothing much.” Alastor shrugged. “Your unfortunate bedpartner seemed to realize he had goofed up by telling me about last night and got an interesting, purple hue, before he shrieked I should forget everything he had told me – and then he got away from me as fast as his hideous legs could carry him.”

I groaned, lowered my head and cradled it in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut. “I can’t believe that – that fucking _idiot…_ now people will talk… they will get even _more_ annoying… they will… _Charlie_ will… _ugh…”_

Alastor’s hand shallowly patted my head a few times. “Now now, don’t you worry, my mothy loudmouth! I’m sure that waste of space will think twice before spilling the beans about you and him yet another time (well no that’s a lie, I’m not completely convinced he won’t, because it’s still _Angel Dust_ were talking about here). Besides, I’m not planning to tell anybody about it, either.”

I looked up from my hands. “You’re not?”

“Oh no, certainly not! **If you’re willing to humor me for a bit** , that is.” 

He chortled and got yet another round of approving applause from an audience I couldn’t see. 

I rolled with my eyes. Ah. I should have known. This was _Alastor,_ after all – that bastard never did _anything_ for _anybody,_ unless the other person was either Charlie or somebody who was well-prepared for all the compensation Alastor was going to expect from them in return. 

Sighing, I raised my head some more, giving the deer demon on the couch a tired look. “Alright, you cunning creep – what do you want from me? What do I need to do to keep you from telling others about my mistake?”

“By telling me _more_ about that mistake.” 

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me?"

At first I was convinced he was fucking _trolling_ me again, that red asshole, so clenched my teeth together and wanted to nag at him to get _serious_ already, for Christ’s sake. But upon noticing his face, I felt my anger evaporating. Alastor _was_ serious. His smile had lessened a bit, just like how the radio noises around him had grown less boisterous. 

“I'm not joking around. I'm simply _very_ curious about how that mistake could have happened,” he emphasized. 

I calmed down and relaxed my shoulders. “Why? Why are you so curious about it?”

“You’re attracted to females only, correct?” Alastor kept staring at me with an unfeigned eagerness. “You have never felt the desire to share the bed with males in the past. And yet, you _did_ yesterday. You did something you thought you would _never_ do, because the very thought alone most likely _repulsed_ you. So _why,_ my dear? Why did you willingly cross that bridge?”

I didn’t understand why Alastor would be so fucking interested in my sex (or love) life. I mean, the jerk had told me _just_ a few minutes ago he didn’t give a shit about me. Other than Charlie, he only cared about _himself,_ so why—

Oh.

 _Ohh._

I thought about my next move for a little while, observing Alastor thoroughly.   
  
“Okay… let me put aside me and Angel Dust’s… thoughtless fling for a bit and focus back on _you_ ,” I eventually said, “because this _is_ about _you_ , isn’t it? You don’t give a crap about me screwing Angel or whatever other sinner in this hotel. Like hell you care about _that._ You just want to know something about _yourself._ Don’t you? Something that _worries_ you.”

Taken aback, Alastor blinked a couple of times – but that was the only hint of surprise or any emotion I got out of him. His high-and-mighty posture and demeanor didn’t wane and therefore didn’t tell me anything. There were no other physical responses, either. It… just looked like he was _waiting._

I should pick my words very carefully now.

Clearing my throat, I picked up my clipboard again – and the remains of my poor, shattered pencil. Like that, I sneakily slipped back into my role as therapist.

“Alastor,” I began, “have you ever heard about this thing called asexuality?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There once was a fair princess who never smiled. This worried the King and he promised that whoever could make his daughter laugh would have his permission to marry her. Over the years, many people tried to make the Princess laugh or smile, but none succeeded.  
> Meanwhile, on the other side of the land, a hard (but also kind of dim) worker is told by his master he is allowed to take as much money from him as he wants. He ends up taking three coins and then, he decides to travel around the land. During his travels, the worker meets up with a mouse, a beetle and a catfish, that all ask him for a bit of money. He gives them his three coins and carries on.  
> Eventually, the worker ends up at the castle of the King – and, much to his astonishment, he sees the beautiful Princess looking at him, out of her window! This surprises the worker so much that he trips and lands head-first into a pool of mud. Then, out of absolutely freaking nowhere, the mouse, the beetle and the catfish all come to the man’s aid – and their shenanigans are such a bizarre sight to behold that the Princess burst into laughter. When she’s done laughing, she points to the muddied klutz and exclaims she has found her true love – and the two marry soon after, living a happily ever after. 
> 
> This story, a Russian folk tale, was collected by Alexander Afanasyev (1826-1871), who published hundreds of Russian fairy and folk tales – in spite of his early death. He’s considered to be the Russian counterpart to the Brothers Jacob (1785-1863) and Wilhelm (1786-1859) Grimm.


	9. The Pied Piper of Hamelin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, everybody: you’re about to read a part of Alastor’s background story! Yay! 8DDDDD I had a lot of fun writing this, but there are a couple of things that probably need to get addressed, first.
> 
> When you’re reading this chapter and you’re like “hey, but that’s not what’s canon” at a certain point – you are probably right. What I made up to be Al’s past, isn’t 100% compliant with what we know according to the existing information – okay, well, of _course_ it isn’t, I mean, we don’t know all that much about Al’s background, but still. Thought I should put it out there anyway, just in case!^^
> 
> Also, the topic asexuality will get discussed a bit. As somebody who heavily suspects herself to be an asexual as well, I did my best to write down what I know and have looked up about the asexual spectrum. If something doesn’t seem right to you or if you feel offended in some way, please keep in mind that this is mainly my own point of view on/my interpretation of a specific kind of asexuality. It’s a pretty huge spectrum, after all!
> 
> Feel free to talk to me about it, though!^^
> 
> Now that that’s out of the way – enjoy reading this chapter! 8DDDDD

After the therapy session with Vaggie, I found my mind drifting off to the past, as I absentmindedly walked around the corridors of the hotel.

When I still dwelled in the world of the living, there had always been one person in my life that I loved unconditionally – and that person was my mother. My caring, sweet and hardworking mother, who was forced to go through a lot more hardships than most women and mothers her age had to. 

It wasn’t her fault she had to work so hard – it was all because my stupid, meddlesome numbskull of a father decided to die young, like an _idiot._

Having become a widow just a few years into her marriage and needing to work even harder in order to distract herself from the grief and to keep her only child well-fed and happy, my mother never complained about her situation and did the best she could to shield me from her internal darkness and depressing thoughts. However, as her doting son, I definitely felt my mom was suffering because of my father’s untimely death. That’s why I did my best to become more like him, so that maybe, just _maybe,_ I could bring him back into her life a little bit. I looked a lot like him after all: the single thing that I hadn’t inherited from my father were my brown eyes (which were my mother’s).

Taking over some of my father’s character traits I could still recall, like his constantly smiling face, his love for lame puns and his unrealistic optimism, helped lifting my mother’s spirits: she _loved_ seeing him back in me and (unwittingly and indirectly) encouraged me to become even more like him. Unfortunately enough, my father had been a fairly popular, loved man in the community my family lived in, because of his humbleness and his tendency to help others in need… and that’s where our similarities ended. 

I _wasn’t_ humble. 

I _wasn’t_ helpful.

Therefore, I wasn’t exactly popular or loved, either.

Oh I had _tried,_ believe me, I had. 

But in the end, I couldn’t fool myself nor the people around me. 

The strange combination of looking like my handsome father and always straining myself to wear his broad smile, while having a cunning personality that was _nothing like his at all,_ left an eerie, bad taste in the mouths of my mother’s close friends and relatives – and although I wasn’t ever bullied or harassed, people that were offered the choice would rather avoid me altogether. It was a lonely time. I felt so ignored, so invisible, so dispatched from the rest of the world… 

Ah, well. I couldn’t blame the townsfolk, though.

After all, they knew – **felt** – that something wasn’t… **right** with me.

I learned to deal with it, and eventually, I didn’t even mind it all that much anymore: _outside_ of my own neighborhood, where _nobody_ knew my twisted self, I had people flocking to me anyways. After becoming an energetic radio host of a well-known radio station in the big city of Louisiana, I got more popular than my daft father had _ever_ been! One of the many upsides of being on the radio from AM to PM and having a larger-than-life-personality: people just _couldn’t_ ignore or avoid me! And the best part was: they didn’t even _want_ to! The people in the city _loved_ my charisma, my boisterous words, my youthful arrogance, and – again, _outside_ of my family’s tight, oppressing community – I could be whoever I wanted to be, act however I wanted to act!

Vent my pent-up frustrations however I wanted to vent them. 

**Kill whoever I wanted to kill.**

Ahh, but this isn’t about my bloodlust and why and when it all started to build up inside of me until it finally escalated. No no no, this was about _the single thing_ I felt I couldn’t grand my mother, no matter how much she wanted me to give her that. No matter how much _I_ wanted _me_ to want to give her that.

A daughter-in-law.

  
**AaA**

  
Now don’t get me wrong: my mother and I never got into fights or arguments about the fact that I wasn’t interested in women, men or relationships altogether. I probably was lucky I was a man – I sometimes wondered if things would have been more problematic for me, had I been a female in this same, awkward situation.

But even though my mother never pushed me to bring home a lady friend, she did _hope_ I would. I knew she did. Whenever I came back from work and talked to her about the people I had met that day, her light-brown eyes would always lit up a little when I mentioned a woman’s name.

“Oh! She sounds lovely, my dear! Do you get along with her?”

“Mother, I – she was only in town for one evening. I don’t expect to meet her again.”

“But would you _like_ to meet her again?”

“Not particularly?”

“Ah.” A faint smile. “Alright then.”

I… didn’t enjoy these kind of conversations. They always fell flat and they made me feel downright confused. As if I was doing something wrong.

Years passed by and while I myself didn’t necessarily worry about my single status (to be completely honest, I was perfectly happy with who I was and with what I did), I did notice that the people around me weren’t like me.

Co-workers that had begun working at the radio station around the same time I had, ultimately gave up their single lives. They got into committed relationships, and soon after that, they got married. Within a year or two, I could expect an announcement in our office, where one of the workers would proudly proclaim their were going to be parents soon.

“What about _you_ , Alastor,” was the somewhat mocking, somewhat friendly-meant question that always, _always_ came after yet another workmate had gotten hitched to someone they had been seeing for a while. “You’re already in your thirties, right? Isn’t it about time you find yourself a girl and settle down? Don’t be too picky now! You better hurry up before it’s too late and you end up old and all alone, ha ha!”

Ha ha!

Ha ha indeed.

It _unnerved_ me.

No matter how much I tried to shrug it off me, no matter how much I laughed along and no matter how much of that tension was later released after I had deliciously choked out the life of some random fool in an abandoned alleyway – it still unnerved me.

They were right.

It _was_ strange to be in your thirties and still have no interest in sex or intimate relationships.

This wasn’t only bothersome for me because of my mother’s wish to see me in a mundane relationship, but it could also quickly become very bothersome for me _personally_ , since my secret little hobby was starting to draw the unwanted attention of the local police department. Several people's bodies had been found in the streets after all, murdered in cold-blood, and I _knew_ they were looking for suspects that weren’t completely normal, that acted out of line, that stood out – and I knew _nobody_ who stood out more than _me,_ the charming, attractive, yet still very much single radio host that always went his own way, walked his own pace and kept others at a safe distance.

If I didn’t do anything soon, it wouldn’t be long before they’d find out that 'that one radio guy' was behind all of those killings all along.

So I tried to go out with people – _all_ kinds of people, just to increase my chances. 

It didn’t work out.

Every girl bored me.

Every man bored me.

Every person bored me.

I never let them come close, never let _them_ touch _me_ and I always made sure _I_ was the one in control. 

Every date ended quite wonderfully though: to all of my infatuated dates, I’d be the charming gentleman that would kiss their hand, help them into their feathery coats, wish them the best of nights and send them off with a smile that could fluster even the most stone-faced whores around the seedy streets of Louisiana – and then I vowed to myself to never _ever_ see them again, because yet again, this had been another boorish evening that I was never going to get back.

Usually, my temporary companion for that evening would lose hope after I had ignored their letters, calls and other attempts to contact me for a little while. They, most likely, always came to the logical conclusion that a popular, handsome man like me was sharing the bed with numerous people every night anyway. That they probably should be grateful that I had lost interest in them before their heart, too, would have gotten brutally broken by me.

 _Usually,_ yes. This was how it went down _usually._

One woman, however, wasn’t going to give up on me that easily – and therefore, that one woman wouldn’t only decide her _own_ gruesome fate that way, but _mine_ as well.

  
**AaA**

  
She was a rather short, curvy, self-righteous songstress that claimed to have fallen in love with me at first sight. She had short, almost white hair and light, gray eyes that seemed to pierce right through you. For some, she was a clear _beauty_ to behold and she was something of a local celebrity: all the men wanted her. But she wanted _me,_ the mysterious radio host she had heard so much about. She would capture my heart, she had promised me on our first and only outing, and there was nothing I could do about that.

She annoyed me right from the get-go.

Truth be told, I _loved_ interacting with bright, idealistic people that had a certain liveliness about them and I had taken some of them out on dinner dates and other fun outings before, but _this_ woman? This woman acted like a cocky, overconfident _harlot._ Normally, I attempted to entice my dates with almost-intimidating touches and words in order to completely win them over, but with this lady – I didn’t even want to sit _near_ her.

Keeping up appearances was something I had gotten quite good at, whether I liked the person communicating with me or not. The songstress, however, just plainly _disgusted_ me with her clingy, drunk and inelegant behavior – and after a mere hour, I didn’t even pretend to like her anymore. I curtly told her that I wasn’t interested in her and that it would be better to never see one another again. As she gaped at me, speechless at last, I took my coat and left the café we had been visiting. I even left all of the bill for _her_ to pay, something I never did, just to get my point across even harder.

Annoyingly enough, from that day on, the minx began to stalk me. _Unabashed,_ even, and it got worse every passing day. First, she’d only wait for me outside of the radio studio. Later, she started to follow me through the city as soon as I was done working. Ultimately, she even went as far as _to_ _walk into my house_ one day, introducing herself to my flabbergasted mother as my _fiancée._

Ho ho! Some _spunk_ that girl had, I had to admit _that_ much!

She told me she knew enough about me to be aware of the fact that I loved my mother dearly and that I would never hurt a woman, no matter what.

Well then. 

She would soon find out the hard way that people - such fickle creatures! - could _change_ their opinions and morals.

Especially if they were **pushed hard enough**.

  
**AaA**

  
Now, I wasn’t fearful of her. Oh ho ho, no no, not in the _least._  
  
It simply was very _inconvenient_ to have such a persistent, irritating stalker.

Ever since this lady had started bothering me daily, I no longer could lighten up my day-to-day life with an exciting kill; I no longer could take out my frustrations on unsuspecting victims lying around in the city. I grew bored and annoyed, and subsequently, my dissatisfaction and anger over the current situation grew worse and worse. I reached my absolute breaking point when I one day had to read in the local newspaper that the popular wench had gone around the city, claiming she was carrying my unborn child, which was _very much_ impossible.

I threw away the newspaper before my mother could read the news and it was at that moment, as it started to dawn upon me that this woman wasn’t afraid to go to even _greater_ lengths to catch me in her sticky web, that I decided that enough was enough. 

I needed to get rid of her. 

So early in the morning, I did some preparations and then left the house early – earlier than normal. It didn’t matter: I had barely walked two steps out of my house or I could feel her posh eyes, pricking into my back. I enjoyed the silent anticipation I could feel building up inside of me and took a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood, until I had reached the place where I had parked my car, near a quiet, neglected park. Around this time during the day, nobody came to this place. So I simply sat down on a bench and waited. Sure enough, upon noticing I was all by myself and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to wander off, the woman came out of the bushes, approaching me with this crazed, adoring look in her eyes. Before she could open her mouth, I took out a large knife and calmly told her I would _gallantly_ give her a couple of seconds to run away and never show her face in front of me again. However, I told her, if she _didn’t_ run away, I would definitely kill her.

After a perplexed silence, she laughed.

She didn’t run. She didn’t even attempt to. She _laughed,_ cackling out loud that I didn’t have the stones.

I stabbed her to death as soon as she was done laughing.

Hilariously enough I could tell later, from her bewildered expression as she laid there on the grass, quickly bleeding out and spilling her guts, that she _absolutely_ hadn’t seen it coming. I had played a rather convincing role as the ever-charming, kind gentleman. This gullible lady, that could have gotten everybody, could have attracted everybody with her voice alone, had attempted to reel in the _one_ fish she couldn’t catch – and as a result, had ended up as a pile of dead, cold meat.

I never found her _that_ good of a singer anyway. 

After the deed was done, I swiftly wrapped her, her guts and the knife in a blanket I had taken from home, before chucking the body into the back of my car. I left some traces of the blood where it was, on the grass – it was going to rain in about an hour anyway. Then I changed my clothes and removed my gloves… and then I drove off, to work. It had been the first time I had killed somebody in broad daylight, in a neighborhood close to mine, no less (it had been pretty _exhilarating,_ let me tell you that much!) and I realized that leaving her body in that park wouldn’t work out all that greatly for me, especially since she was a well-known face around these parts. That’s why I thought it would be a good idea to bury her body in the woods. I had everything I needed for that with me after all, so it was a decent plan.  
  
That day, I had the _best_ day at work in a _long_ time. Knowing that in about a few days, I would start reading articles about the songstress’ mysterious disappearance, filled me with a magnificent joy I hadn’t felt in quite a while and oh, I couldn’t _wait_ to try and hold in my laughter as I would tell my radio audience to please look out for the missing woman. 

And don’t worry: I knew that people would ultimately come to suspect me… but that was alright! That was all alright, because if I played my cards right, I was going to be able to make sure nobody was ever going to find her body. And it would be **_wonderful_** to see the police struggle to solve this puzzle from up close. 

I was going to have so much fun. I was going to have so much more _**fun!**_

  
**AaA**

  
When work was done for the day, the weather hadn’t gotten much better.

It had started to rain heavily by the time I said goodbye to my colleagues and got into my car. By the looks of it, there was a fierce storm brewing in the air and coming this way – and I counted my blessings. If I managed to get rid of the corpse in my trunk _now,_ the storm would wash away all of my traces and the amusing cat-and-mouse game that would no doubt happen would even get _more_ entertaining for me!

Chuckling out loud, I drove off, into the dark afternoon. My destination? The nearby forest. 

Everything went alright at first: I got into the lonely woods safe and sound, dragged the blanket with the body out of my car and through the mud, and found a good place to bury it. Humming a catchy tune and appreciating the rain more with every drop that fell onto me, I dug a big hole, got rid of the remains and _just_ when I finished putting earth on the irritating songstress’ last resting place, I heard the sharp sound of a dog whistle.

The sound of my oncoming demise.

Not even half an hour later, I found my own death at the hands of a trembling, soaked, old huntsman, who had accidentally mistaken me for a deer and had released his monstrous hounds to hunt said deer down. I don’t think I’d ever forget that wrinkly, old, scared face of the man, as he put his gun against my bleeding forehead, tried to look away from my mauled body and muttered a few anguished prayers for me.

Later, a _whole lot_ later, I learned that they _never_ found my body. I’m not sure what _exactly_ that hunter had done after shooting me in-between my eyes, but he had made sure to get rid of every little piece of evidence he could have left after he had taken me out. They also never managed to retrieve my car or my shovel – everything I had left in the woods had simply mysteriously _disappeared._ My car and my things, the songstress and I - we all had _vanished_ from the world on that stormy afternoon, _poof_ , without leaving a trace behind. And like that, my grieving mother was left all alone in that tiny, yet cozy home the two of us had lived in for such a long, and yet such a _short_ time.

Mimzy once half-jokingly told me, in a tipsy mood, that my mother probably believed that the two of us had eloped together. That she, as any good mother, had probably wished us well.

“I’d like that,” she murmured, her black-and-pink eyes glassy and watery as they did their best to focus themselves on mine. “It’d be nice if you’d at least let me have _that_.”

I had wanted to laugh her in the face and wholeheartedly reject that _ridiculous_ idea of hers – because I had been told that the huntsman back then was kind enough to at least (anonymously) let my mother know her son had perished in the woods – but in the end, I had merely nodded at Mimzy.

Although I was aware of her still-lingering feelings for me, she wasn’t stalking me anymore. She minded her own business nowadays and she knew I had someone else in my life – someone she could _never_ replace, someone that had – innocently, _lovingly_ – succeeded to do _that_ that _nobody,_ not even the great songstress Mimzy, had ever been able to do. She had learned her lesson, I was sure of that.

So she could have her silly little fantasy.

  
**AaA  
  
**

Three partly painful, partly harsh and partly reassuring conclusions buzzed around in my head for a while, long after I had relived this bit of my complicated past.

Conclusion one: had I been a… _straight_ man, with a _normal_ sex drive and a _normal_ need to create my own family, then I most likely wouldn’t have died the way I did. Events wouldn’t have led up to that moment. I was fairly sure I would have died young anyway, but – well, not like _that._ Perhaps, had I met somebody like Charlie, my past life would have been different. I didn’t believe I would have changed my personality and ways all _that_ much, but at least a _little,_ and maybe that would have been enough to – live a bit _longer._

Conclusion two: it’s been too long since the last time I spoke to Mimzy and I should see how she’s doing one of these days.

And conclusion three: I wasn’t broken.

Vaggie had given me an almost empathic look when I had uttered those words, back in that therapy room.

“Okay – ignoring the fact you are a merciless serial killer with some really disturbing tendencies and questionable morals… no, Alastor, in terms of sexuality, you’re _not_ broken. You just have other preferences.”

However, no matter what a relief it was for me to find out there was a name for my particular sexuality, Vaggie warned me that it could also horribly complicate things in my and Charlie’s relationship – and perhaps even _end_ it, if I wasn’t _"prepared for what it meant to date a succubus"_ , as she put it.

“Charlie’s only a half-succubus,” I had protested Vaggie’s words.

“And _you’re_ only a demiromantic asexual,” Vaggie had cheekily responded. “At least – that’s what I think. That you’re an asexual who can fall in love and won’t mind sexual intercourse too much, but only after a deep and meaningful bond has developed between them and the very special someone else. It doesn’t mean that you’re only half-romantic or half-sexual or anything like that (in spite of what the name suggests), but it _does_ mean that sexual attraction works _differently_ for you.”

“That may be, but I still don’t believe that being a – what did you call it – asexual could possibly jeopardize our relationship,” I kept saying. “Not as long as I know who I’m dealing with.”

Vaggie had then given me another look – a look that _was_ empathic, a look that a parent would give their child when the child asked when they would finally go visit the sickly dog the parent had ‘sent to a farm’ a while ago.

“I’m not sure,” she then said, softly and forebodingly, her one eye staring motionlessly at me, “that you are completely aware of _just who you are dealing with_ , Alastor.”

She then insisted it wasn’t her place to tell me about what she really meant with that statement and told me that I should have a good talk with Charlie, once I was mentally ready to have that kind of conversation with her. Also, I should let her know that I was – most likely – an asexual person. She even made that last tidbit a task for the upcoming week: I had to have told Charlie I was asexual before next Monday.

I… was too blown away by everything that had been discussed during this therapy session to go against Vaggie (or to torment her some more about her sexual adventure with Angel Dust yesterday), so I simply agreed to her proposition and then left the room, after which I had simply wandered the hallways for a bit in a total daze, thinking about my past life and pondering about what my next course of action should be.

Now then!

On top of all those other, get-Charlie-to-Heaven-related goals I had for the following four-and-a-half months, I not only needed to find out how to – well, _survive_ Bob’s troublesome Mark of the Fallen, but I also had to discover what Charlie was hiding from me, since that, too, could have a catastrophically bad outcome if I didn’t do something about it.

Despite the dire situation I realized I was in, I had to laugh sarcastically at myself.

Ha ha! Well, looks like I didn’t have to feel bored the following months!

That was good! That was _very_ good! After all, I hated being bored more than anything.

  
**AaA**

  
It had already been almost two-and-a-half hours since I had last seen Charlie (after we had ended our break time in the library), so it was about time I looked my lovely lover up again. Not per se to… do all those things Vaggie had instructed me to do (although I figured I might as well should come clean about my sexuality to her as soon as possible), but because I simply craved for her attention.

I wanted to see her again. I wanted to hold her in my arms again. I wanted to be with her again. Being with her had a healing, comforting effect on my well-being and I needed that right now.

All in all, it… had been a rather rough and busy day. Certainly, it was _very_ pleasant to wake up to the overly-affectionate kisses an extremely satisfied Charlie had excitedly been planting on my lips, over and over again, until I had finally opened my eyes – but I had woken up _exhausted._

So very _exhausted._

Last night had been quite fun and romantic, I’m willing to say, but dear _god_ had all those sexual activities drained the life out of me!

My body was still stiff and suffering from annoying muscle cramps. That most likely had got something to do with my fairly frail constitution after having been sick for such a long time - well, that what I _presumed._ It's probably also safe to say it was only normal to be feeling this way after a night like... last night, but it still irritated me _greatly_ : my body didn’t have _any_ rights to ache – at least not as much as _Charlie’s_ probably did.

After all, her current, disturbing way of walking friendly reminded me of the fact that I hadn’t exactly gone _easy_ on her last night.

Hum. A-anyway...

So yes, forcing myself to get out of bed and do the tasks I was supposed to do had been a challenge this morning, but somehow, I had still been able to get up and do all of them. Then I had spent a nice, quiet hour with Charlie snuggled up to me in the library around noon, which had been a welcome change of pace, and soon after that, I had that appointment with my very own therapist – Vaggie.

And, well, if all of yesterday’s activities and this morning’s chaos hadn’t already wore me out, the enlightening therapy session with Vaggie a little while ago _surely_ had done the trick!

Since I _now_ didn’t have anything I _had_ to do anymore anyway, it seemed like a good idea to look my darling, soothing Charlie up again and see what she was up to.

So I was going to do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inhabitants of the town named Hamelin are suffering from a rat infestation. Then one day, a mysterious musician dressed in flashy clothes appears, and he claims to be a professional rat-catcher. He promises to clean up all the rats, and the Mayor of Hamelin in turn promises to reward the piper with gold and riches if the man succeeds. The piper and the Mayor make a deal and when the musician takes out his pipe and starts playing his tune, all of the town’s rats start to follow him. The piper leads them all to a river, where they all jump into – and subsequently drown.  
> But when the piper returns to the Mayor and asks for his reward, the Mayor scoffs at him, refuses to pay the piper the full price and even accuses the musician of being the cause of the rat plague: “You probably trained the rats, so that you could extort our innocent town!”  
> The angry piper swears he will come back and have his revenge. And sure enough, one day, when all the adults are busy, the piper comes back to the town and lures (almost) all of the 150 children out of the town with his funky tunes. The kids follow the musician into a cave… and the children are never seen again. Three children that were unable to follow the piper (one of them was blind, one of them couldn’t walk and one of them was deaf) later tell the returning adults what has happened to the rest, but by then, it’s already too late… 
> 
> Like with most fairy tales, there are different versions of this tale: in some versions, the children are returned to Hamelin after the Mayor has paid the piper. In other, _darker_ versions, the children drown in the river as well – but in the original one, most likely written by the Dominican monk Heinrich von Herford (1300 – 1370), the kids just get into a cave and… disappear.


	10. Sirens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know? [Chisena](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt) decided last week that it was Bob/Hakim Week: she managed to post a lovely drawing of Bob/Hakim and Charlie (and Alastor once) _every day_! It was great! It was wonderful! It made my day almost every day - and of course I'm going to share her arts with you now!^^  
> In chronological order...  
> [Smile More](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1306246825213440000)  
> [The Young Us](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1306609195676909576)  
> [All Nighter](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1306971323604725760)  
> [Sweet Little Sister](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1307334172227166209)  
> [Comfort](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1307697993055789057)  
> [Bad Ending: Grief](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1308060472197787648)  
> [Play Nice Photo Shoot](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1308425257292767233)  
> Also, of that last one, she made a [GIF](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1308425921775333376)!
> 
> And just when I thought I had seen more than enough Bobs/Hakims for a lifetime, [Astria](https://twitter.com/AstriaSparks) came along and made [this](https://twitter.com/AstriaSparks/status/1308585348767850498)! Gaaaaah! The colors! The atmosphere! I love it all so much! ^/////^
> 
> Thanks for all the art, for all the love, for all the appreciation! This never fails to completely take me by surprise and make me feel like the happiest, most fortunate fanfic-author there is. I can't believe how nice people are to me and I really, really cannot stress enough just how blessed I am!^^
> 
> As for the chapter, you might not recognize just what song Charlie is singing. [Here you go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Gl2QnHNpkA). Don't judge me. It makes sense in context, I swear! XDDDDD
> 
> Have fun with this relatively light (or is it) chapter!

I’m kind of a bastard, so when I saw the princess sweating bullets and trying her hardest to drag an enormous piece of machinery into the main hall, I didn’t get up from the barstool and I didn’t offer her my help.

That’s not my style, people. I won’t offer _anybody_ my help – not if I can’t make some money out of it.

Plus, I was very _pissed_ at the moment, and I still felt just as fucking _confused_ as I was this morning, so I’d be nice if everybody just… just fucking _left me the hell alone_ already, dammit!

So I sat there, like a beautiful, purebred asshole, and stared at Charlie, _evilly,_ peeking over my glass of – _whatever_ Husk had poured into it, as the blonde hotel manager huffed and puffed and barely managed to move the big thing even a single inch. Her face got all red and stuff, but instead of giving me a snarl and a nasty look for not helping her, she just grinned sheepishly at me, as if she wanted to say “ha ha ha I should have thought this through a bit better right lol”, and then continued struggling pushing the metallic device further into the hall.

It was _infuriating._

Just look at this _bitch_ – acting all nice and wholesome, like the precious cinnamon bun she pretended to be. Heh, well, she didn’t sound so fucking innocent _yesterday,_ when she was getting banged so _hard_ and cried out so freaking _loud_ , I was sure even the biggest sluts in Valentino’s various sexhouses could learn a thing or two from her! I swear, that girl could probably wake up an entire, deader-than-dead _cemetery_ if she _really_ was in her element. 

Our sparkly, inspiring rainbow princess – _ha_! The stupid ditz now could barely take two steps _without_ looking like a foal attempting to walk for the first time, thanks to all of that delicious dick she got last night! Lo and behold, gentlefolks, Hell’s finest, most incorruptible little sweetheart – fucked raw and senseless, like a shameless skank! 

And _yet._

Aaaand yet and yet and yet - she was still _here._ Not in bed, or mooning over Alastor. She was _here,_ and she was working her hardest, as she always did. Presumably, once again, not even for her own sake, but for the sake of the rest of her hotel’s sinners. Like her own pleasures, aches and troubles didn’t matter to her all that much in comparison. Like there were more important things for her to think about than what she _herself_ wanted. Like… she actually _cared_ about—

GOD, she was so fucking _annoying._ I mean, she didn’t even _think_ about nagging at me for ignoring her and acting like a fucking douchy _asshole_ towards her! What a total _loser,_ right? I couldn’t fucking _stand_ it!

Ugh.

Okay – I had enough of this bullshit. Charlie’s moronic bumbling around was getting on my nerves – and believe you me, my nerves _really_ couldn’t handle much right now. With a deep, groaning grunt, I attempted to actually get up from the barstool and help her ou—

Out of the fucking blue, I got a hard _shove_ – hard enough to make me and my drink fall to the ground with an undignified _smack._

Motherfucking—!

When I furiously scrambled myself up and looked around me to see which goddamn prick had caused me to fall off my stool like that, I met Husk’s disapproving dark eyes.

“Get your pink ass moving and come help the princess out already, you disgruntled, sorry piece of trash. Feel sorry about your fucked-up one-night-stand later.”

I had wanted to yell at the cat demon to freaking _mind his own damn business_ and let me be a mean, nasty bitch in fucking _peace,_ but then I happened to catch a glimpse of Charlie, wheezing heavily, wiping her forehead, rolling up her sleeves and sneakily glancing looks at both me and Husk. Her hopeful eyes told me everything her mouth didn’t, really, which made her a bit more humane, a bit less angelic, and that kind of did the trick.

So in the end, I let out a hard and mournful _huuuuuuuurrrrrrr_ – I actually did my best to make it real nice and long-lasting, too, how about them apples – and grumpily dusted off my prized and much-worshipped butt, before tagging along with Husk, to the lovely princess’ rescue.

I already helped out one princess yesterday anyway – what difference would it make to assist yet another one? 

At least _this_ one didn’t make me feel fucking _weird_ from inside.

  
**DdD**

  
“Thanks so much, you guys!” Charlie chirped happily, as soon as she, Husk and I had – somehow – managed to get the device she had been pushing and pulling around on the big podium in the main hall. “I probably couldn’t have done it without you, so… well, like I said, thank you!”

I folded my arms together and muttered something not even I understood or heard, while Husk gave the princess a curt nod.

“What’s that thing anyway?” Husk wanted to know, as Charlie bended her legs and started to fidget around with the machinery. I looked on, my curiosity carefully hidden away behind an aloof, cruddy mask. It looked like… a gigantic, black loudspeaker with a lot of dials, buttons, cables, lights and switches, really – something that resembled a boombox of some sorts. Something-something… music-related? Look, I wasn't _that_ stupid, but I didn't know what a boombox _exactly_ was: I wasn’t interested in metallic things that were made after my death and looked like stuff that was wayyy too complicated for a dim-witted crackhead like me to understand. But I was pretty damn sure it had got _something_ to do with music. It even had two wireless microphones and shit.

Hey hey… now that I think about it, didn’t Val have this kind of thing installed at a couple of his Porn Studios as well? What did he call them again? It was on the tip of my tongue…

“It’s a karaoke set – a modern one!” Charlie disrupted my thoughts, grinning excitedly and pulling a mike off the device to excessively point at it – like that would clear everything up right away.

“Huh,” Husk said, scrubbing his chin with an oversized paw. “Interesting.”

I smirked – ha, of _course_ our grumpy kitty cat, stoic, unmovable _Husky-Busky_ , wouldn’t give a tiny rat’s ass about something as frivolous as…

…wait.

Wait wait wait a hot second – he actually found it _interesting_?

And even more astonishing: he _knew what it was_? 

“Yeah I know what it is – now close your goddamn mouth and stop being so fuckin’ _surprised,_ it’s _insulting,_ dammit.” Husk huffed, glaring at me while Charlie quietly carried on installing the setup to the big screen on the podium in the background. “They had some karaoke rooms in Vietnam, okay? If we didn’t have to fight and weren’t gambling our troubles away, the boys and I instead went to these places a couple of times, during the war. Sometimes some locals and their kids came along, too. It was pretty neat.”

I snorted. “But weren’t you, like, already fuckin’ _old_ when ya fought in Vietnam?”

“Weren’t you like already fucking _dead for decades_ when I fought in Vietnam?” Husk’s glare intensified. 

"Oof _\- burn_!" I let out a chuckle. “Alright alright - totally deserved that one. Sorry for that. Still though, care to tell me more about it? I’ve seen these things around Hell and everythin’ – get’cha thinkin’ why _that_ is, huh – but I’m not really an expert, catch my drift?”

The cat demon grumbled, watching Charlie connecting cables, checking lights and testing the sound. Without turning towards me, he then started to explain to me what karaoke exactly was.

“It’s something Japan developed, I think. Not sure, but hey – if it’s weird yet strangely addictive, it’s probably from Japan. Karaoke’s a form of entertainment that lets you sing along with a piece of prerecorded music, using a microphone and the subtitles you’re supposed to sing out loud when they appear on the screen. There is no singer; _you_ are the singer, and that’s about it. People do it for fun, but it’s also got a competitive side: if you’re going to do karaoke in a group and sing in turns, the person that sings best gets the most points and all that. Some machines actually give you points on how well you sing, so that’s kind of cool.”

I gazed at Husk’s fuzzy face, absolutely _blown-away_. “Oh my god, _that's hilarious_ – you actually _really fuckin' like it_ , don’t ya?”

“Hggggrrrr,” Husk hgggrrr’ed defensively.

“Are you a good singer, Husky baby? Are ya? Can ya sing some sad rhythm and blues for me?” I had to withhold myself from bursting into laughter. For some reason, picturing Husk singing along a machine’s jingles and him giving it his all to do a great job was both ridiculously cute as it was fucking _priceless_!

Husk, already getting flustered, turned his head towards me with a _snap_ and looked like he wanted to chew me out for mocking him – but then a high-pitched, static sound pierced through the air, making the two of us cower and cringe in response. When I finally straightened my back again, I had kind of expected to see Alastor skipping around Charlie like the twiggy asshat he was (loud, annoying and eardrums-destroying static = Alastor, after all), but he was nowhere to be seen.

We _could_ see Charlie, however, hastily dialing down the volume and turning to both me and Husk with a nervous smile, clasping a microphone in her hands.

“Sorry for that,” her voice echoed through the loudspeaker that was connected to the device, “but I had to test it – to see if the speaker and the screen both work. And they do! Isn’t it _great_?”

“It is,” Husk answered with a nod, brutally honest (and now honestly starting to creep me out just the _tiniest_ bit, I mean Jesus Christ man).

I gave the princess a questioning look. “Yea alright, I guess it’s pretty cool and all, but – do ya care explainin’ to us _why_ you’re settin’ up that thing all of a sudden, blondie? Are we gonna hold a karaoke night or somethin’?”

“I’ll tell you in a bit, okay?” Charlie pressed some buttons on a remote controller. “I – um – I just _really_ want to try it out, first! You mind waiting for a little while? Please?”

“For this once,” Husk said with a humpf. “Since you need to test and stuff.”

Bet you twenty bucks he couldn’t wait to snatch that mike away from her and sing his fuzzy goddamn heart out as soon as he got the opportunity.

“Yes!” Charlie cheered. She then looked at me, pleadingly. “You don’t mind it either, right, Angel?”

Oversensitive vagina or not, the girl was practically _bouncing_ up and down now – and I rolled my eyes, sighing. It was no secret the Princess of Hell was an avid lover of song and dance, and I had more than once caught her secretly humming a tune when she was busy working or doing something else that allowed her mind to wander freely. She was a rare specimen in that respect, since the only _other_ being around this place that always liked to remind everybody around him that he loved music, dance and everything that had got something to do with it, was that red, Doritos-shaped guy she happened to bonk.

“Fine,” I eventually said, making the princess’ eyes lit up in delight. “Sing all ya want, why not.”

Annoying morality pet or not, she still had a fucking _nice_ voice, after all.

  
**AaA**

  
There weren’t many voices I had heard during my life that had ever completely _enticed_ me.

Ha! I suppose that was one of the many struggles of being a radio host with a pretty smooth and charming voice himself: hearing something so arrogantly _good_ and _near-perfect_ every time I opened up my mouth made sure I’d never _ever_ be _that_ impressed with every other voice – not as long as that voice didn’t even come close to the high-quality, melodic voice I myself had and shared with the rest of the world, each and every day, without even having to put in some effort for it. 

It was a curse, it was – but my goodness, did I like _that_ curse.

There were more voices I liked listening to, though: one of the few things I had gotten from my mother, was her beautiful voice and her passion for songs and dancing. I loved her voice – and for quite a long time, I found her voice the _only_ sound that was on par with the tones my very _own_ voice created. I also held fond memories of certain death screams some of my victims had produced in desperation, shortly before I’d snatched their life away from them. So unabashed – so _desperate_! What a _thrill_ it had been to listen to _those_ kind of voices!

However, all of those voices, shrills and cries didn’t even hold a candle to the single voice that had one day caught my attention long enough to draw me to her owner’s laughable hotel and – well, utterly _ravish_ me, capture me, reel me in – hook, line and sinker.

Charlie’s voice was one of its own kind. 

There was something – _irresistible_ about it, something so _bright,_ so _clear,_ so _earnest,_ that it could even hypnotize the hardest of minds, melt the coldest of hearts, soothe the loneliest of souls. I could listen to Charlie's yapping all day and night and _still_ not get enough of it, still beg to hear _more_ of it – but when she _sang…_

Oh dear _lord_!

Oh dear _God in the Heaven above_!

Whenever she _sang,_ and it was overheard by me, it was like an invisible force took over control. I had to drop everything I was doing and quit thinking about _whatever_ possible thought I had, and simply – go to wherever my beautiful, darling Charlie was. There was this _need_ within me that urged me to get to her, right away, just _get to her_ , and that was all that was on my mind, all I could _do,_ until I had finally reached her.

This didn’t necessarily mean that I wanted to smack her against a wall and kiss and usurp every alluring sound out of my precious lover's mouth whenever she had the guts to sing, but – well, it _did_ mean I didn’t have any rest until I was at her side. It was almost like some sort of spell – some form of magic I couldn’t fight. _Wouldn’t_ fight, either: I adored it too much for that.

Still, this was a rather embarrassing urge I had – needing to hurry over to where Charlie was whenever she sang out loud – so I was fairly fortunate that didn’t happen all too often. 

It… happened _now,_ though.

As I was busy wandering around the hotel, wondering where Charlie would be, my ears picked up the sweet, irresistible tones I recognized as her dazzling singing voice – and I stopped dead in my tracks.   
  


  
_“...loneliness has always been a friend of me_   
_I'm leaving my life in your hands_   
_People say I'm crazy and that I am blind_   
_Risking it all in a glance."_   
  


  
It came from the main hall. I didn’t know for certain yet – but my _legs_ most certainly did, as they automatically started to move in the opposite direction I had been walking in and _sped up_ , making me _sprint_ through the hallway like a maniac on _fire._   
  


  
_"And how you got me blind is still a mystery,_   
_I can't get you out of my head._   
_Don't care what is written in your history,_   
_As long as you're here with me.”  
  
_

  
Oh.

It was a love song.

_Oh._

Such…

Such _cheesy_ lyrics!

Oh my _goodness_ – was I _sincerely_ going to run to the main hall like _Lucifer himself was chasing me_ for a bland love song like _that_?  
  


  
_“I don’t care_   
_Who you are_   
_Where you’re from_   
_What you did_   
_As long as you love me!_

  
_Who you are_   
_Where you’re from_   
_Don’t care what you did_   
_As long as you love me!”  
  
_

  
Well – since I was practically _throwing_ myself against the door of the main hall a couple of seconds later: yes, yes I was indeed going to do _just that._   
  
I vigorously prayed (oh and wasn’t _that_ an ironic thing to do in Hell) that Charlie would at the very least be all alone, and not in the company of people we both knew well, like, say, Angel Dust or Husk. Have the two of them watch me dashing towards Charlie like some love-struck buffoon would be too humiliating for me to overcome, ha ha!

Ha!

…they _both_ would be there, wouldn’t they.

  
**DdD**

  
While Charlie happily sang the lyrics of one of the most _cringe-worthy_ songs I had _ever_ heard (accompanied by a just as corny music video on the big screen that showed some pretty white boys fluttering around cute girls), the doors of the main hall were suddenly _violently_ kicked open – and look who found himself standing in front of the podium all of a sudden, panting heavily, totally out of breath and looking so wonderfully embarrassed he could basically sink into the ground out of total and utter shame? 

That’s right: the great, big, stinking Radio Demon himself! Apparently, the man liked his mushy, crappy songs as much as he liked chomping on some gross deer meat!

I grinned widely at the ‘fearsome’ overlord and was about to yell something at him to try and make the bastard turn even redder than he already was, when a few of the hotel’s _other_ sinners stormed into the chamber as well, only stopping their hysterical running when they were right in front of the stage Charlie (still unaware of everything happening in the room, since she was facing the screen and reading the lyrics) was performing on. There were like a few of them I kind of recognized, like Eugene, that locust demon that had once tried to flirt with Charlie (and immediately got scared to death by Alastor for his brave efforts). There was also this one mysterious and frail hotel guest both Husk and Alastor seemed to know – what's his name again – Rob or something, I think, and some other pathetic fucking losers. 

I blinked with my eyes, looking around the confused group of demons for a little while. Kind of strange it was only a small portion of the hotel’s sinners, to be honest: I had thought the ruckus would attract more dipshits to come check the noise out. Also, it was a pretty damn colorful collection of assholes, I had to say – I didn’t think they even had one thing in common.

“Huh. Looks like the crowd got a little bit bigger over the past few months,” Husk then remarked with a mutter, eyeing (a very puzzled-looking) Rob with a sinister twist around his lips.

I looked his way, confused. “Bigger crowd? What’cha mean?”

“Huh? Oh – of course _you_ wouldn’t know.” Husk made a gesture towards Charlie. “This happens more often whenever she starts singing: a _very_ select group of demons and sinners instantly start to gather around her – and they’re only able to leave when the princess stops singing. I once told her it’s annoying as fuck, so in order to spare my long-suffering mental state of mind, she doesn’t sing out loud all that often anymore.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, still watching the humble, yet still kind of impressive gathering in front of the podium. “Let me guess: whenever that happens, Alastor and Eugene are always present, aren’t they?”

“Yup.” Husk followed my gaze, hissed something under his breath and gave me an awkward pat on my shoulders. “Oh. Huh. That sucks, Angel.”

I shrugged and looked away, just as Vaggie looked up from the pile of people. 

“I have no idea what’cha’re talkin’ about.” 

  
**HhH**

  
When the princess’ test song ended, it didn’t take most of the present demons and sinners long to immediately turn around and _scram,_ hurrying their horny asses out of the main hall as soon as they could. As they fucking _should,_ with all due respect: Alastor could hide a _lot_ of things and emotions, but his laughably _petty_ possessiveness over the princess _wasn’t_ one of them.

Hell, seriously, the very last sing-songy word had _just_ passed Charlie’s lips, and many black and red voodoo-symbols were _already_ soaring through the room ominously, like those creepy psycho-magic-shits had been there all along, no problem.

It wasn’t any fucking help for the ambiance, but at least it got rid of most of the hotel’s sinners. In fact, the _only_ person out of the gathered crowd who _wasn’t_ leaving the main hall right after Charlie’s performance was Vaggie, who – just like Alastor – made her way up the podium to see what our hotel’s manager was up to.

Said hotel manager turned around on her heels, her face a bit red from singing, her voice a bit throaty because of that same reason. Her already sparkling eyes got even more glittery when Al decided it was about time to once again kindly inform the rest of the people here just who the princess was dating and be a huge jackass about it (read: he walked up to her and only allowed her to speak after he was done kissing her silly).

“A-alright – thanks for your… your valuable feedback, Al, I – I think,” Charlie breathed heavily and tried to compose herself again (while Alastor backed off with this satisfied, shit-eating _smirk_ on his mug), “…so… ahem… anyway! now that I have confirmed the karaoke set works, I’d like to tell you what I have in store for next week’s weekend.”

“You’re planning to organize a karaoke night, aren’t you?” Vaggie filled in the blanks, putting her arms over one another and eying her friend suspiciously. “A karaoke night with guilty pleasures from the 90s – and don’t you try to deny it, I recognized the Backstreet Boys’ amazingly _awful_ lyrics immediately. I just _had_ to come in and check to be sure.”

Angel Dust looked like he wanted to reply to that, but he didn’t. 

Charlie’s eyes darted around for a little while as she started playing with her long locks of hair. “Ha ha… well… I was kind of hoping… all of _you_ would try and organize that karaoke night, for next week’s weekend.”

“What?” I grumbled, scratching my back. “Look, Princess, I’m all for a fun karaoke night, but why the _fuck_ would you leave something like that to incompetent idiots like _us,_ dammit? For crying out loud, can you even _begin_ to picture that yellow-teethed freak of nature over there organizing a cozy karaoke night – and said night _not_ ending in a fucking bloodbath, with at least _one_ sinner choking in one of the damn CDs?”

Alastor let out a laugh. “Oh I’ll _gladly_ organize an activity that involves both singing and foolish sinners choking on things too big for their unworthy windpipe – but would someone care to elaborate on what a karaoke is?”

“I’ll tell you later – but don’t get your hopes up, because you’re _not_ going to be organizing it, Al,” the princess clarified, “I feel bad – I mean, I really, _really_ wanted to be part of this karaoke night, I had it in mind for a while now – but you and I have… _another_ party to attend to, next week’s weekend.”

“Another party?” Alastor cocked his head and quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Angel Dust clacked his tongue sarcastically. “ _Sheesh_ , sugartits – tone _down_ the fuckin’ _enthusiasm,_ it’s fuckin’ _killin’_ us over here!”

Al creaked his neck towards Angel, his eyes fickering like a red-and-brown warning light. “Ha ha! _Well_ now! **Call her ‘sugartits’ again and I can promise you it won’t be just her enthusiasm that’s killing you,** my dear friend.” 

“It’s a fuckin’ compliment – she has some nice tits! I’m an _expert_ on boobs, ya know!” Angel protested. “Also, am I really yer friend? For _real_? Holy shitballs, Al — is it ‘cause ya agree on the greatness of yer lady’s honkers? Well slap me on the ass and call me—” 

He shut up right away when Vaggie jabbed an elbow into his side and shook her head at him. Angel gave her a look I couldn’t place or understand – that’s what you get for binging down beers since 7 in the morning: you lose your ability to comprehend expressions – but he didn’t say another thing and just rubbed his side, saving whatever he wanted to say to Vaggie for later.

Meanwhile, Alastor summarized what that stupid spider demon had meant to say in more acceptable words.

“Frustratingly annoying or not, the spider wench _does_ have a point, my love – correct me if I’m wrong, but you indeed don’t seem to be too keen on participating in that other party you’re speaking about.” 

“Yes – that’s because my _parents_ are the ones throwing it, next week’s weekend.” Charlie sighed, giving some of her blonde locks a firm yank, as she usually did when she was worried about something. “Come – let’s sit over there for a moment and talk, Al…”

She gave me and the rest of her staff an apologetic grin, took Al by the hand and wordlessly pulled him behind her, leaving the rest of us behind to gawk at their backs.

I made a face and cursed, while Charlie and Al sat down at the edge of the podium. 

Oh. I guess that was _something_ alright: they at the very _least_ stayed around and didn’t skedaddle out of here, leaving the rest of us on our own – but what the fuck were we supposed to do _now,_ huh? I couldn’t organize _shit_! I could barely get myself dressed every fucking morning – you think that single bow-tie and top hat was a fashion choice? 

Well it motherfucking _wasn’t_! 

I was just a fucking drunk _idiot_!

And a _cat_!

Drunk cat idiots don’t wear clothes!

Don’t you fucking _dare_ judging me!

Anyways – so now I suddenly had to organize a big-ass karaoke event – and with _those_ two sexually confused fuckers, too?! They couldn’t even bear to be in the same damn _room_ thanks to their ill-timed, one-night-stand yesterday night! How was I going to plan anything with them? I bet I could get more work done with a _stick_ and two fucking _pebbles_!

And I had _none_ of those!

Just when I was about to blow my top and roar at both Angel Dust and Vaggie to stop acting all awkward and get me some sticks and pebbles already, Vaggie calmly raised her hand.

“I’ll go check what kind of songs Charlie already has.”

She didn’t await my answer, but just padded to the karaoke set right away, sitting down in front of the CD-box that was part of it.

“There are a lot of guilty pleasures to choose from, though. I, um. I could use some help.” 

Angel Dust watched her for a quiet moment, gripping his arm with his hand and making weird faces, before briefly turning his eyes to me.

“She’s so fuckin’ hopeless. I… guess I’ll help her with that, ‘kay?”

I looked on as Vaggie, without saying a word, scooted aside a bit and let Angel sit next to her. Then I glanced to the other side, where that other weird, bizarre couple was huddled together. I scowled. Back, backs – all I saw were _backs,_ harsh, cold and uncaring, turned towards me, shutting me out of a no-doubt romantic-flavored conversation on the left and barring me from the nonchalant, yet hopeful whispers on the right, too.

I blinked my right eye, then I blinked my left eye.

Eh. Not my best work, could’ve made up something better. 

Shows that I should’ve drunk fucking _whiskey_ instead of beer this morning – my depressing poetic remarks would’ve been so much more agonizing that way.

Oh fuck it. Before I’d wallow in my own self-pity, I’d better try to make myself useful as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sirens are mythological beings. They have had different appearances throughout the ages: they were firstly depictured as birds with women’s heads or winged, female figures with the legs of birds, carrying some sort of instrument (most often a harp). Later on however, starting from the middle ages, the image of a siren being some sort of mermaid kind of stuck. Apparently, people liked the image of sirens as women with shiny fish tails a whole lot better than the image of them being freaky birds with female heads (and they were right, I saw some pictures and believe me, mermaids are way easier on the eyes and brain).  
> Sirens were dangerous, (after the fifthe century) female-only creatures. They possessed a wonderful ability: they had a singing voice to die for – and I mean that literally. Once a siren started singing, sailors and other men aboard a ship would get mesmerized by their sweet, sad and beautiful songs, filled with wonderful promises, and throw themselves overboard, into the ocean… where the sirens would rip them to pieces and eat them up. Allegedly.  
> Sirens weren’t always victorious, though. For example, the legendary Odysseus and his crew managed to escape a gang of sirens by stuffing their ears with beeswax (Odysseus himself wanted to listen to the song and ordered his men to tie him to the mast as they passed the sirens by). It was said that a siren was fated to die if people heard their song and yet were still able to get away from them, so you can bet the sirens were pretty bummed out about Odysseus and Co. sailing away from their little group outing.
> 
> Ever heard of the term ‘siren song’ by the way? It refers to an appeal that’s incredibly hard to resist, but if one gives in to it anyway, it will almost always lead to a very bad conclusion.


	11. Waiting for Godot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting out of hand in my country again: too many people are getting diagnosed with COVID and the goverment is having a hard time deciding on what to do. Just yesterday, we got stricter rules to follow - but I fear it might already be too late. If everything keeps developing like this, we'll be having a second lockdown before you know it... and I'm REALLY not looking forward to that.^^;;; Still though: if it can't be helped, it can't be helped…
> 
> My family and I are still healthy, by the way! I hope you are all doing fine as well. Let's do our best and make the best of it, even if things are looking pretty grim right now! <3 
> 
> Maybe I can cheer you up with some lovely [art](https://twitter.com/movedmal_1701/status/1311016469266718720) made by [MovedMal](https://twitter.com/movedmal_1701)! It's so pretty!! Also, For some reason, people really like to draw Al crying and being comforted by Charlie. Well I can't blame you. It's both heart-wrenching and heartwarming!^^
> 
> Have fun with a fluffy chapter this week!^^

Alastor and I sat on the edge of the podium and looked out over the big, empty main hall in front of us… in almost complete silence. I was thinking about how to explain to him what my parents were expecting of us for next week’s weekend – and I found it hard to just… open my mouth and _talk,_ for some reason. 

I didn’t like talking about my parents. At the moment, I didn’t even like thinking about them in the first place.

So for a while, the only hearable sounds in this great room were coming from behind us, where Vaggie and Angel were rummaging through the CD-box and cracking up about some of the very _bad_ songs they stumbled upon.

I pursed my lips and sighed. I really _was_ pretty bummed out about not being able to join them in the giddy anticipation for the karaoke night…

“Now now,” Alastor said and gently put his hand on my hand, that was gripping the wooden edge of the stage. “There’s always next time, my love – you said so yourself, remember? No use sulking over something you eventually will participate in anyway!”

I glanced aside at him and smiled a bit. I must have been thinking out loud again. 

“I know, Al, I know. It’s just – I already had some very _awesome_ songs in mind to sing to my heart’s content. Thanks to Vaggie, I know more about 80s and 90s music than probably is necessary for a Hell-born being like me (or _anybody_ , really) and _god,_ you should know just how many _horrible_ 90s-hits are _begging_ to be sung, loud and proud!” 

I turned towards him some more and felt a broad smile appearing on my face. 

“Like… like that cheesy boyband-song you heard just now, or a song about a very vain man, or that funny song about someone who did something wrong again, or even that very dramatic, over-the-top single that was the soundtrack of a movie about a famous ship, or – oh my god, maybe even the Macarena-song! _With the silly little dance and everything_!”

“Those all sound very lovely and I have no idea what you are talking about whatsoever,” Alastor cheerfully announced – making his invisible radio audience snicker in agreement.

I smirked. “Oh don’t you worry, Al. I have thought about some songs _you_ could sing as well! Like Lou Bega’s one-hit-wonder, or something by Phil Collins, or – wait, oh god, or that one guilty pleasure hit from Haddaway. Or that ridiculous hit from Right Said Fred! Gaah! Oh geez – hearing you sing _that_ song, now _that_ would crack me up!”

“I… again, I don’t know _any_ of these men or their songs,” Al sourly remarked, as he watched me squeal and wiggle around, trying to stifle my giggles. “ _Do_ keep in mind I’m not as modern nor as ‘hip’ as you are, my dear.”

Aww. It was kind of cute he thought songs from the 90s were ‘hip’.

I waited until the obligatory _“but at least I’m centuries younger than you are, grandmother Charlotte har de har”_ -comment would follow, but, to my surprise, it didn’t. Grateful for that little mercy, I smiled some more and subtly moved myself a bit closer to Alastor, pushing my leg against him as I squished my face against his shoulder (and yes, that's right, I'm about as subtle as a kick in the rear).

“That's alright Al, don't sweat it. I’ll help you out, I promise,” I told him, nuzzling his arm.

He lifted his hand from mine, wordlessly gave me permission to sit a little closer to him, and sneaked an arm around me. While I in turn used the new position to wind my own arms around his torso and closed my eyes for a bit, I felt him pressing a kiss on top of my head.

“I'm looking forward to it. You helping me out with songs, perhaps even _singing_ some of them with me – now that would be simply _delightful._ Thank you in advance for your assistance, my love.”

“Oh no, don’t thank me.” My eyes popped open again and I glanced up at him, beaming from ear to ear. “It’d be my _pleasure_!”

“Yes, well… speaking about pleasure…” Alastor cleared his throat, as if something was stuck in it, and tapped his hand’s digits against my arm. Then he casually started tracing them up- and downwards in an awkward manner, his fingers gliding over the fabric of my shirt. “How… well, how are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine! And I did quite some work today as well! I managed to do a lot of administration this morning, I checked the stockroom to see if we still have enough of snacks, party supplies and detergents (don’t worry, they’re not stored right next to one another, ha ha), and then I went to fetch the karaoke set from the basement.”

“Oh! How lovely!” Al laughed, his voice cracking.

“Hm-hm!” I smiled. “But that’s not what you really meant, is it?”

He looked away. “No. I was talking about your – body.”

“My body?”

“Your body.”

“What about my body, Al?”

Alastor started making funny, squeaky sounds as he tried to answer my question, while his audience chuckled and whistled, urging him to speak up.

I gripped him a bit more tightly and looked up at him again, this time with a deceivingly gullible, questioning smile. Of _course_ I knew what he was talking about – heck, I already knew what he was going to ask me when he put the emphasis on _pleasure._ But I liked to fluster him, to catch him off guard – and I liked to watch him squirm and try his best to ask me something he felt even more weird to talk about than I did. 

Also, I was freaking _sore_ down there. 

“Is it – well.” He eyed me uncomfortably and his eyebrows did something that almost made it look like he frowned. “Does it…”

“Yeeees…?” I bat my eyelashes at him.

He swallowed. “Did I…” 

“Hmmmm…?”

“You walk _very_ strangely today.” He enclosed his hand around my upper arm and gave me a soft, apologizing squeeze. “You must be hurting. I apologize.”

Right away, my flirty attitude was tossed out of the window and I blushed fiercely as I felt the weight of his apology. I had expected him to sputter and be adorably awkward, not to actually feel _bad_ about what had happened yesterday night!

“I-it’s okay, Al, it’s fine!” I hastily said. “I mean – sure, I’m a bit sensitive and it’s been a while since the last time I have been… uhm… w-well, y-you know…”

“Since you’ve been – _what,_ Charlie?”

Now it was me who felt like dying a little inside and I pressed my burning face against the red fabric of his neat dress shirt, mumbling the rest. 

“Since I’ve been… t- _that_ thoroughly…”

Oh my god, I knew the man was as dense as a brick when it was about sexual things and I knew he told me I needed to be more explicit, but did I really have to say it out loud? Did I _really_ have to— waaaaaaait a minute.

I suddenly jerked my face up and stared _right_ into his smirking face, his mocking and overbearing smile stretched out so widely I momentarily feared he might actually rip the corners of his mouth open.

“You slimy _jerk_ ,” I growled lowly, while Al finally burst into laughter and evaded my swishing hands, “you acted all insecure and worried on _purpose,_ didn’t you! Just to make me say something really _embarrassing_!”

“My oh my, what is that – do you hear that?” Al _extravagantly_ said, effortlessly plucking my hand out of mid-air and folding his claws around my fingers, “it sounds like… my, that sounds like the pot, calling the kettle black! _Ha_! My dear princess, two can play the humiliation game!” 

Since I couldn’t smack him anymore – if I even _ever_ could – I stopped trying and just settled for pouting at him, like, really huffily. “You nasty _trickster._ I’ll get you back for that.”

He didn’t say anything and his smile shrunk. Then he took hold of my chin, tilting my face up as he studied it carefully.

“Don’t move around too much if it’s too much or too painful for you – your discomfort is partly my fault and I take full responsibility for everything you’re not able to do.”

“Al,” I muttered. “Seriously – it _really_ isn’t _that_ bad, you know…”

“I know – and I also realize you’re a very diligent worker. And incredibly _stubborn_ in your ways. However – let me have this. Let me take care of you, my beautiful sweetheart. Alright?”

Blinking and getting all warm and fuzzy inside, I nodded a bit.

“O-okay.”

His gaze focused itself on my lips. “Will a kiss make you feel better?”

I slowly sat up some more, to quietly yet very helpfully shorten the distance between our faces, and put my arms around his neck. 

“You _always_ make me feel better, Al.” 

I could have sworn his face felt a little bit hotter when he leaned forward and impatiently mushed our lips together. It made me smile and I interlocked my fingers behind his neck, relishing in his tender, careful touch.

He could be such an adorable worrywart…

  
**CcC**

  
After the kiss, Alastor suddenly pinched my cheeks and told me it was about time I told him about that alleged party at my parents’ place, next week’s weekend. I gave in to his request – since I felt lighter and less conflicted after kissing and talking about sweet nothings with Al – and told him that I had spoken with my mother earlier today. On the phone, naturally. 

“Well, that’s _great_ news!” Al cheered, rewarding me with a pat on the shoulder. “And what did your darling mother say? How did she react when she finally heard your voice again, after… what, four weeks, a month and a bit?”

I gnawed on my lower lip, rubbing over my tender cheek. “She – choked up a bit. She sounded really _happy,_ especially for someone as stone-faced as she is, and she told me she had been hoping to hear something from me. She explained she hadn’t been able to reach my phone, for some reason. I didn’t have the guts to tell her I had blocked her and dad’s number.”

“I’m sorry, what do you mean with… ‘blocked’ their number?”

“People can’t call you once you’ve blocked their number. You forcefully ignore them – pretty literally. They sometimes never even find out.”

“So the Queen didn’t know—”

“ _Yes_ she _knew_. Of _course_ she knew, Al. She’s not _that..._ antiquated.” I sighed. “Not that mom would ever admit that she knew I had blocked her – she’s too prideful for that.” 

Alastor hummed. “So what did she say?”

“I don’t know.”

“You… don’t _know_?” 

I groaned. “ _No_ , because before mom and I could actually start our conversation, _dad_ was already being annoying somewhere in the background, screeching _‘is that our little apple beignet, my Brutal Temptress of Fate?’_ – and then he yanked the phone out of mom’s hands and burst into tears when he heard me coldly tell him that he was a total dillhole for disrupting my and mom’s phone call like that. And then he was suddenly sobbing that it had been _‘way too long’_ since the last time the _‘beloved fruit’_ of his and my mother’s _‘fiery loins’_ had cussed at him and his entire being so _‘passionately’_.”

“You father really needs to get into the entertainment business,” Alastor said.

“My father really needs to _act_ like one – like an actual _father,_ I mean.” I looked down, at my hands, lying in my lap. “I know it’s part of his larger-than-life personality, but really – it’s stuff like _this_ that makes me think he just doesn’t take me, his only child, seriously. Think about it: they haven’t heard from me in _weeks,_ and all he does when I finally do make a call is shout stupid, meaningless words at me!” 

“You said he also cried when he heard it was you,” Al pointed out.

I hand-waved it away. “My dad cries at the drop of a hat. He once stubbed his toe on one of my plushies and was inconsolable for hours. He felt better after _burning all of my stuffed animals_ a while later, though.”

“Oh my,” was all Alastor could say to that.

I breathed in deeply. “Anyway… dad was blabbering all kinds of things and I didn’t really comprehend him, but it kind of came down to him being _so_ over the moon happy with my surprise call, that he was going to throw a party for that occasion alone. He barely managed to invite me and _‘that manipulative bag of dickweed’_ (which is _you,_ just in case you didn’t get that) for this wonderful social gathering next week’s weekend, before the phone on his side of the line couldn’t handle all of his extraness anymore and the connection was severed.”

Alastor gave me a somewhat bewildered, yet highly amused look. “So let me get this straight, Charlie… your parents are throwing a celebration party… because you _made a call to them_?”

I shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Good _lord_! No _wonder_ you’re always able to keep up with my energetic, highly unpredictable behavior – you’re used to dear old _Lucifer’s_ crazy, enlightening antics, after all! The good Light-Bringer _himself_!” 

Alastor was about to laugh out loud once more, but he thankfully changed his mind as soon as he glanced aside and saw me pulling up one of my legs and putting my head on top of a knee, letting out a bitter, depressed sigh.

I heard him calm down and heave a sigh as well. He laid a hand on my back and was quiet for a little while, probably because he was thinking about what to say to me next.

“Are we actually _going_ to your parents’ party, Charlie?” he eventually asked. His fingers lightly massaged the curved figure of my back. “Hmm? Talk to me, my dear.”

“I…” I started, staring into the big, deserted main hall lying in front of the podium, “I’m not sure. I _really_ don’t want to go, to be honest. Like… at all. Have you ever been to one of my parents’ parties?”

“I can’t say I have, no. Sadly, the thought of inviting the ever-charming Radio Demon to one of their infamous festivities never even crossed your parents’ mind, I even dare to say!”

“Well – don’t be _too_ sad about it, because it’s not like they are any fun anyway,” I said. “The festivities at my parents’ place always end in a… dull kind of chaos. There’s a guest list, but dad also likes to randomly invite unsuspecting sinners to his parties, just to mock and ridicule them. Some of these poor souls then get missing, others turn up days later, heavily traumatized… there’s no music, no dance – just loads of food, drinks, clumps of certain demon-groups jumbling together and a _lot_ of gossip from Hell’s most influential and hard-ass overlords and sleazeballs. It’s awful.”

“It certainly _sounds_ awful,” Alastor agreed. “No music, no dance, only annoying tattletales to listen to… what a _farce_! Did you participate in many of these blasphemously boring parties?”

I hugged my leg some more. “More than enough of them, especially when I was a bit younger and was made to believe these kind of parties were part of being a member of the Royal Family. I remember feeling lonely and gawked at as I anxiously shuffled around the big chamber and tried to see a friendly face that would help me find some refuge during these gatherings. All those little groups thrown together in the Royal Hall… maybe I was wrong, but it felt like they were always stopping their chatter whenever I was nearby. I was a topic sinners loved talking a about, I was… _discussed_ a lot. I was a strange princess, after all: I wasn’t like my parents at all. Too softhearted, too sheltered, too naïve, too weak… They laughed at me, I’m sure. But my parents said it was good for me to join these parties as much as possible, to try to get to know the more important inhabitants of Hell. Dad said it would teach me to handle demons and sinners that talked shit about me behind my back. So, I was forced to… adjust myself to the situation, time after time.”

“Well it _worked,_ didn’t it?” Alastor effortlessly pried my face loose from my leg and turned it his way once more. “Even if it was the hard way, your parents _did_ teach you how to handle the worthless scumbags of Hell – I saw so for myself, when you were in that picture show with that dreadful Katie Killjoy-crone. You fought back when she started to drag you through the mud. You didn’t only defend yourself and stood up for what you believe in, but you showed her what you were made of. The insults that got thrown at you may have hurt you, perhaps even scarred you, in some ways – but they never _broke_ you. You’re too strong of a person for that.”

That got a small, thankful smile out of me. “Thanks Al. Hearing you say that means a lot to me. I – guess you’re right about my… Spartan upbringing. It did teach me how to deal with annoying people. And yeah, it _did_ make me stronger, in some ways.”

Alastor watched as my eyes began to drift away from his. “Ah. You’re going to say ‘but’, aren’t you?”

“But,” I indeed said, “I’m _done_ learning. I’m done… being strong, trying to make my mom and dad feel proud of me. Now that I’m living on my own, away from their influences, opinions and teachings, I feel like I can actually say ‘no’ to them and the hollow, pointless parties and social gatherings they want me to attend. Not because I think I can’t live up to their expectations, but because I just don’t want to feel _bad_ afterwards anymore.”

“So _that’s_ what you’re anxious about,” Alastor said, musing. “You fear the party will be a huge disappointment, and the mere thought of it alone is enough to cripple you with sadness and dread.” 

I let out an empty laugh. “ _That’s_ a bit too strongly-put, maybe, but… yeah, I do feel… a bit down about the prospect of going to a party I’m sure I won’t enjoy.” 

“Well _that_ just won’t _do_!”

Without giving me any warning, Al suddenly scooped me up in his arms, twisted me around and determinedly sat me down in his lap with a dry _plop_ , my face looking up at his as he blatantly reveled in having my full, flabbergasted attention.

“Now then,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me even closer, “about that party of your _hilariously_ short-sighted parents… let me promise you some things, my love: I will _personally_ make sure that it’s going to be an absolute _wonderful_ party. You and I – we’ll have fun, we’ll dance and we’ll laugh, and there won’t be any annoying sinners around to worry your beautiful blonde head about.”

I put my hands on his shoulders, pushed him back a bit and gave him a doubtful look. “ _How_? Are you going to call them up and _make_ them throw an actual _fun_ party?”

He grinned his sharp teeth bare. “I might do something like that, yes.”

“You _do_ realize my parents are the most powerful beings in Hell and will completely ignore you at _best,_ right?”

“Oh ho, I wouldn’t say that. I can be quite persuasive when I want to be. Especially when it’s about _your_ well-being, you charming little thing.” He wound a finger around one of my suspenders and gave them a sharp pull, drawing me in close enough to steal a kiss from my half-opened lips. It took me by surprise and he withdrew before I could answer the kiss.

“You…” I murmured, hesitantly running the tip of my tongue over my slightly-moist lips. “You really think they will listen to you?”

“I will make my point _very_ clear. Not just to the King and Queen of Hell, but to _you,_ too.”

“To me?”

“You’ve been a bit out of it lately, Charlie. Your eyes have lost quite a bit of their usual radiance.”

I didn’t reply – I just sat there, my brows furrowed in a slightly nervous frown.

He smiled a small, almost modest smile. “It’s alright, my love. I’m sure that there are many questions and thoughts about many, _many_ subjects burdening your mind and heart – most of them probably because of things that are out of your reach. Fearing to meet up with your parents once again, knowing about my current cursed state and being actively aware that I have certain secrets I keep away from you… it’s taking its toll on you, isn’t it?”

I still didn’t reply, but I did watch him closely, knowing that my eyes gave away my astonishment. 

So he knew. He knew I knew. 

And he knew I knew he didn’t want me to know – _whatever_ he was hiding from me.

“I will tell you.” Al cupped my face, his hands warm to the touch as he softly put them on my cheeks, his thumbs swiping something wet away from the corners of my eyes. “I... need some more time – I _always_ need more time, for some reason – but _please,_ love of my life. _Please_ bear with me and believe me when I tell you I _will_ speak up about everything you need to know. Let that be a consolation to all of your fears and confused sadness. After all, you mean the world to me – and if you let me, I will spend the rest of the time I’m allowed to be at your side to cheer you up and cheer you _on_.”

I laughed, weakly and shakily, as I let him press a few kisses to my face, my hands fixedly holding on to the front of his informal, red button-down… garment.

“Y-you've always had a way with words.”

“Ah, well.” He noticed something trickling from my left eye and put his lips to the wet trail. “I _was_ a radio host, after all…”

My lips squeezed themselves together until there was nothing left of them but a firm, albeit shaky, straight line. Sighing, I closed my eyes and sat as still as possible while he took care of any stupid teardrop that attempted to roll down my face. It was kind of amazing he could be gentle like this, could literally kiss my tears away, kindly tilting, turning and caressing my face with subtle movements. I breathed in and out as softly as I could. If somebody had told me about Alastor’s tender, caring side half a year ago, let alone that I would eventually end up as his (very first) _lover_ , I would’ve thought they were absolutely _insane._

Had I, or my love for him, drawn this side out of him? This friendly, compassionate, loving side of his he these days didn’t even feel embarrassed about showing it to others anymore?

And if that was the case – could I, with patience and some sweet encouragement, draw even more out of him? 

Would he ever trust me enough for that to happen?

“One thing,” I heard myself utter.

Alastor made an encouraging noise, something that buzzed in the back of his throat, and he placed a kiss near my mouth.

I gulped and although my eyes already were closed, I screwed them shut even more insistently.

“Please just – just tell me _one thing_ you have yet to tell me.”

“I’m asexual,” Alastor replied right away.

My eyes popped open again and I stared at him, baffled. 

“I – only recently found out,” he quickly began to explain, as he finally pulled back. “ _Very_ recently. I… apparently, that’s the main reason why I’m not as enthusiastic about having sexual intercourse as most men. No, wait – that’s not fair of me to say – as most… non-asexual people. Hence my lack of interest in most of the cases in which copulation is involved.”

“I see,” I said.

He moved his head up and down, nodding – and still looking just a tad uncertain. Then, when he realized I wasn’t going to say anything else, he hastily opened his mouth again and hysterically rambled on about how he was aware of the fact this must be ‘very surprising’ for me to hear and that he would understand if I needed some time to get ‘used’ to this news, and that this didn’t mean he didn’t want to have sex with me anymore, but just that he was ‘different than me’ when it was about sex, and that he also knew that it probably was very ‘strange’ and ‘not relatable’ for someone like me, who wholeheartedly liked sex and ‘was always up for it, no matter what day or time it was’… and then he fell silent and made this ‘ _well shit_ ’-face, instantly apologizing to me for suggesting I always craved sex, and then he looked down and muttered he wasn’t sure what he should say now and that it probably was my turn to say something already, before he accidentally said more stupid things.

I chuckled, placed my hands on the side of his face and lifted it up – it felt kind of nice to be the one to actually _do_ the head-tilting for once – and gave Alastor a comforting grin, one that surpassed his wavering one with ease.

“You’re such a disastrous mess of a man,” I giggled, squeezing his slightly-less-gray cheeks in-between my hands. “You _dork._ You _really_ thought I would _mind_ you being asexual? I _love you_ , you _love me_ – and that’s all that really matters to me. Who cares about sexuality when we at the very least know _this_ much about one another?”

Both of his eyes lit up a little – before dimming down almost right after. His bigger, pointier fingers slithered themselves around my wrists.

“Wait a minute. That reaction. Don’t tell me… you _knew_ already, didn’t you?”

He gave me such a disgruntled stare that it made me snort. “Al – oh sweetie, I don’t want to burst your bubble, but I think you were the _only one_ in Hell who didn’t realize it yet, darling.”

“I didn’t.” Alastor plucked my hands off his face and held them in his own. His large, thin hands clumsily fidgeted with my smaller, paler ones and I could feel his conflicted emotions, bundling together and falling over one another, as he was unable to say anything more.

I smiled a bit wider, bent my head forwards and lightly bumped my forehead against his.

“Telling me this wasn’t easy for the proud, confident Radio Demon, was it?”

He didn’t respond.

I rubbed my forehead to his in a teasing, yet reassuring way.

“But you told me anyway.”

A low hum. 

“I appreciate that, Al.” I moved my face upwards and let my lips connect to his skin, right on the red cross in-between his eyes. “Thank you. I – _needed_ that trust.”

“Will that do, then?” 

“…what?”

Al _abruptly_ raised his face at that, more or less forcing me to back off a little as he beamed a grin at me that was ten times stronger than this same smile was just two minutes ago. I gasped, looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights as he clasped my hands painfully tight. His smile – I swear, if his teeth weren’t as yellow as they were, the eerie, overwhelming brightness of his smile would have been positively _blinding._

“Now that I have told you one thing that I had yet to tell you – will you let me try and make that promise I made to you come true? Will you trust my word and allow the both of us to go visit your parents’ party and enjoy it to our fullest, Charlie dear?”

Feeling my jaw dropping, I fruitlessly tried to get a grip on the situation before answering him.

It…

It could be _so tiresome_ to keep up with Alastor and his many incomprehensible mood swings, to try and keep tabs on what kind of remarks hurt him, what kind of words humored him, what kind of things were his weak spots and what was and always had been a play, a trick, a well-planned scheme from the get-go.

But during the last hour, he had showed me more empathy and vulnerability than he had ever done – maybe even more than he had actually _planned_ on showing me. 

No matter how insistent his overbearing smile.

No matter what kind of grandiose plan was going on behind the curtains of those huge, mismatched eyes of his.

No matter how much he liked to have full control over things.

And knowing _this_ much was enough for me to let my lips curl up in a toothy grin and nod my head.  
  
“Alright, Al… I’ll trust you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vladimir (‘Didi’) and Estragon (‘Gogo’) meet perchance near a leafless tree. The two men don’t know each other and they have nothing in common, except for one little thing: they both wait for somebody named Godot. Funnily enough, they don’t know who this Godot-person is – are they male? Female? Are they God? The Devil? They don’t know, they only know that they are waiting for this person and Godot seems to be taking their sweet time.  
> While Didi and Gogo wait and talk (a lot), three different characters pass by, each with their own strange stories and dialogues, while the two men just keep on standing by that tree, waiting for Godot to show up. At a certain moment, they are told by a boy that Godot will meet up with them tomorrow… but the next day, Godot doesn’t arrive either!  
> The fed-up men even start to contemplate suicide – this is just how desperate they’ve become at this point – but at the end of the story, they both are still standing there, near the leafless tree, talking and waiting for Godot.
> 
> It was the playwright Samuel Beckett (1906-1989) who made up this bizarre, tragicomedic two-acts-play about two unassuming characters, helplessly waiting for a person who doesn’t show up. There are many social, political and religious interpretations you could tie to this story (and believe me, people HAVE), but in the end, it’s really only these two men on the stage that are talking. Nothing else really happens – it’s just a lot of dialogue and a lot of information the watcher should interpret as they wish.


	12. Cyrano de Bergerac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all a little announcement: **I'll be updating next week's chapter a day or so earlier!** I'm going to visit the Rijksmuseum with my students next Wednesday (well - if things don't get _worse_ , that is...), and therefore, I've decided to give you an earlier update.^^ You're very welcome! 8DDDD  
> (Also, don't worry, we're paying close attention to the rules concerning COVID-19 and we're all wearing masks, looking out for one another and keeping a safe distance!) 
> 
> Charlie's therapy session in this chapter is based on the first few chapters of the selfhelp-book _"Handboek voor het bouwen van je eigen luchtkasteel"_ ("A Blueprint for your Castle in the Clouds") the Dutch Barbara Sophia Tammes wrote. I got this book to help kids that have a really low self-esteem getting a better view on themselves. But mind you, the book's _certainly_ not especially for kids/teenagers. There is an English and Italian version of the book as well, as far as I can tell. So if you're interested - just look up the author!^^ 
> 
> It's been a while since the last time we heard something from Bob, isn't it? Well here he is again. He has quite some things to say... also things you - and Al - might not really _like_ to hear...

By the time I had realized just how astonishingly _deep_ I had fallen, hurriedly coming back from that point was no long a reasonable, nay, _do_ -able option.

Perhaps I should have seen this coming. Looking back, all the signs _were there_. I could have seen them. But I did not see them. _Refused_ to see them, in all likeliness. I did not seem to understand that even an unmovable Angelic being like _me_ could fall prey to one of humankind’s most ridiculous, most nerve-wrecking, most untamable emotions and feelings.

It was all _her_ fault, naturally.

But it was _her._

And because it was _her,_ I could not even be mad.

  
**BbB  
  
**

While being in her presence, I had felt soft, tender jolts and sparks shooting through me more often ever since first meeting Princess Charlotte. None too demanding, these alien, unsettling aches could easily be ignored. 

But it was during our third or fourth therapy session that my heart actually skipped a beat and made me temporarily lose my breath, for the first time.

“I need you to make up your own imaginary castle,” Princess Charlotte had instructed me on that fateful day. There was a kind smile gracing her facial features and even though I could tell she was doing the best she could to stay calm and professional, the woman clearly was very excited about this new exercise she was going to let me try out.

“Make up an imaginary castle,” I parroted. 

“Yeah!”

“Why?”

“Well – everybody needs an imaginary castle ever once in a while, don’t you agree?” The princess put the tips of her fingers together, smiling clumsily. “A safe, warm place you can sometimes retreat into, when the going gets tough. A place that feels like home. Where you and you alone can do whatever you _want_ to do, without anybody else around to critique you.” 

“I am listening,” I said, mildly intrigued.

She went on: “You see, you don’t need to wait for a building permit in order to build your imaginary castle. You don’t need a real estate agent either – all that you need is your own imagination. That way, you can make your castle as big and spacious as you want. Or not – you can make it small and cozy, too, if that’s what you like. You don’t have to worry about finishing your castle within a certain amount of time: your imagination is _yours_ only, after all, and you don’t need to _force_ your castle into completion. Your thoughts may be different tomorrow, and that, too, is okay. You can change your imaginary castle as much as you want, however you want. It’s all up to you.”

I raised a hand. “Question.”

“Yes?”

“Why would I need to do this?” I felt a frown forming in my forehead. “This all sounds very lovely and… _quaint,_ but I do not see the need to do something like that. I am a grown man. I do not need some sort of… _daydream-crashcourse_ in order to feel accomplished.”

“Daydreaming isn’t childish, Bob. And fantasy… it could be the beginning of _reality._ The more you fantasize about things you find important, the bigger the chance is you’ll want to step up and try to _strive_ for that dream you have.” The demonic princess leaned further towards me, the old sofa underneath her groaning a bit. “Really though: making up your own make-believe castle is to arrange your inner thoughts! You can be the architect of your own mind. With your very own imagination, you’ll create a place with different rooms and chambers to – look at yourself a bit less… _heavily._ That way, your imaginary castle will be the most _wonderful_ place to meet yourself in. I think the inside of your head should be one of your most favorite places to visit. So do your best to make it look good!”

I did not know whether it was because of her sunny disposition, her gleeful enthusiasm or because I simply wanted to believe her, but I found myself being drawn to her words nevertheless.

Hesitantly, I cast my eyes downwards, to the large, blank piece of paper that was lying on the table in front of me. There were a whole bunch of colored pencils and crayons lying next to it, all neatly arranged. I was no creative being whatsoever – though the need to take one of the vividly colored pencils in hand and start sketching began to play up.

“I… I do not have a big imagination, I am afraid,” I confessed with a slight stammer. “I am not sure how to begin.”

“That’s okay! Give your imagination some space. Don’t be too hard on yourself – and don’t waste your energy trying to fight your reality, as you give your castle its shapes and forms,” the princess advised, as she moved her seating closer to the table. “Use that energy instead to look at your reality from a whole _other_ point of view. High above yourself, from the best and most beautiful place you can imagine, where you can be the ultimate ‘you’: your imaginary castle. That’s right, the one you are going to create here! Look at yourself and your reality as you gaze out of the window of that safe haven of yours – and you’ll know what your imaginary castle looks like.”

“High above myself?” I gave her a skeptical look. “So it is a _flying_ imaginary castle, now?”

She blinked and blushed a little, before recovering herself and grinning broadly. “I believe it is, yes!”

“Why?”

“Sometimes, you just got to _believe_ in something in order to _see_ it. Know what I mean?” The blonde princess patted the paper with one of her small hands.

“I believe so,” I nodded, as I took a random pencil and put it down on the paper, drawing the very first line – the indigo-colored foundation of this silly, yet irresistible imaginary, floaty castle the princess was talking about. 

It became a very crude drawing. Like I had said before, I was no artist: my lines, shapes and colors were all over the paper lying on that table. I had no plan in mind, no idea what I was doing. And yet – it felt _good. Liberating,_ even. It felt like I was putting my thoughts, my feelings and my well-hidden emotions down on that patient, no-longer blank poster – and Lord had I been wanting to let all of that out for a long time.

The princess looked on in silence, I could tell every time I glanced at her from the corners of my eyes. She was smiling and her eyes were darting over my scribbles like she had never seen such a masterwork before. I felt a bit naked and vulnerable, to be honest – like I was throwing my inner self out here, on the paper, for her to judge and frown at. Though Princess Charlotte did not judge and she did not frown. She simply watched me draw.

When I stopped drawing for a bit, the princess came off her sofa and stood next to the chair on which I was sitting. Her hand carefully landed on my shoulder and her hair smoothly glided off her shoulder as she bent her head towards the paper and asked me if I felt like telling her what it was I had drawn.

I remember telling her.

I remember telling her a _lot._

However, I cannot remember what it was I told her.

Because she was touching me, and I could smell her scent, and that is when everything started to fall apart in my head, only to be build up over the course of the next few hours.

It was the begin of something I had never experienced before.

  
**BbB**

  
Now, if that specific therapy session had not convinced me yet, what happened later that day very much did: I had heard the fair princess singing a song.

It – was not a very _good_ song, hearing and understanding the gooey, none-too-interesting lyrics. But it was sung by _her,_ by Princess Charlotte, and before I could even realize what was happening to me, I found myself standing up and rushing myself into the main hall, with at least ten to fifteen other, just as confused creatures surrounding me. I did not personally know many sinners – I never bothered to seek contact with _anybody_ here, since I was fairly sure socializing with sinners would _not_ help me growing my wings back any faster – but I did recognize a few of them. 

Like Alastor, for instance. Of course he would come to his beloved as soon as she would start singing. It was only natural the beautiful singing voice of such a pure and yet still quite _demonic_ creature would attract her lover. 

But that begs the question: why had all of these other sinners come to her as well? 

Why had _I_ showed up as well?

I did not have much time to think it through as I was there – Alastor made sure to drive all of us off as soon as the princess’ song had ended – but I had a dark suspicion. It was a suspicion I bravely tried to shake off me, get it out of my thoughts, shoo it off in the days that followed, but… to no avail. 

I had to accept it.

I, an aloof Angel that had come from the Heavens above, had fallen in love with the sweet Princess of Hell.

Oh, the _irony._

  
**BbB**

  
I had no desire to win Princess Charlotte over. Not in the least. 

The princess was in love with Alastor. 

It was that simple. 

That _painfully_ simple.

I could not hold a candle to him. 

Not only because he was an enigmatic, charismatic _bastard_ that _constantly_ had me strung up in the entrance hall, and not just because he had played his cards well and knew _exactly_ what he was doing, even with a deadly spell in his body that was slowly killing him from the inside, either.

No.

It was mosty because he was _changing._

Since Alastor had – more or less – pressured me into do some research, in order to try and find a way to rid him of the Mark of the Fallen I had given him, I had started paying more attention to him. 

I had understood from conversations I sometimes picked up from the hotel’s inhabitants that Alastor used to be more like a pesky, clownish _terrorist_ to Princess Charlotte and her staff than anything else. He had even managed to (in)directly _kill_ a few of the residents in the beginning of their partnership, simply because he was bored or did not have anything entertaining to do. He would often disappear out of the hotel and only return hours later, drenched in blood and wearing a sick, maniacal grin, refusing to tell anybody what he had done. Not even the princess herself, because at that point, he most likely saw her as a cute, dumb little plaything he could slowly but surely **_corrupt._**

But then he discovered she had a library she often retreated herself into, when things in the hotel got too much for the princess to keep up with. And since he _just did not allow_ the poor girl to be alone for a little while - not even for a single _hour_ – he insisted on joining her in that room.

They presumably got to know each other a lot better in the quietness of the old, charming library and Alastor, much to his own horror I believe, hopelessly fell in love with the _one_ person that resembled everything he was _not._

He started doing things that would please her, that would make her like him even more: he would try and get sinners to get parts of themselves redeemed, to get them a little closer to Heaven. Admittedly, he did a very good job at that: many sinners in the hotel had their bodies partly reshaped – even he _himself._ I had never seen him before waking up in that cold dungeon, but according to the sinners in the hotel, Alastor was almost completely _human_ by the time I had been instructed to test and collect him. 

Naturally, almost all of that was reversed as soon as his true intentions had come to light. Karma is unforgiving like that. 

Alastor had not tried to better himself and others for Princess Charlotte’s sake, but for his _own -_ and this should be interpreted in the _worst_ way possible.

He wanted the princess in Heaven, because _he_ believed that that was a better place for her. 

End of story. It did not even matter to him what she _herself_ would think of that selfish plan.

Truly, it was a _horrible_ plan, even if I had to agree with him that she was too good for a place like Hell. However, here I was, stuck in Hell with broken wings, having no other choice but to dance to Alastor’s suicidal rhythm and help him with getting Princess Charlotte into Heaven.

At the end of the day, Alastor was nothing but an unredeemable sinner, one that would _never_ make it to Heaven. Ever.

But he was changing.

Even now that he knew just _how much_ he had to sacrifice to send his lover to Paradise, he was _still changing_.

These last few weeks, I had seen him getting along better with the other staff members of the hotel. Not just Princess Charlotte, but the _other_ people working in the hotel as well. 

I had spotted him chatting away with the moth lady, the ladybug girl and the spider creature a while ago. They were enthusiastically discussing something about a karaoke night – what on earth was a karaoke night? – and while they usually greeted the Radio Demon with wary eyes and defensive stances, they seemed more... _appreciative_ of him now. They all agreed on something. I was not sure what that was, but it was clear they had all reached a very satisfying conclusion that everybody was happy about.

I had also noticed the grumpy cat alcoholic spend more time with Alastor these days, almost as if he was worried about him and did not want him to be alone. I was fairly sure Alastor knew his friend was concerned about him, because he noticeably mellowed down whenever the two of them were together. However, they seemingly _never_ spoke a word about what was going on with the deer demon.

But other than _that_ – other than his attitude being a lot more pleasant towards the people working at the hotel, his manners had become more acceptable and perhaps even _friendlier_ towards the hotel’s sinners he loathed so much, too.

For starters, according to the rumors, he had not murdered _anybody_ in _months_ now (except for that one time he ‘fought and - presumably! - killed an Angel and lived to tell’).

He also actually had _tasks_ he needed to do nowadays, and he did those tasks obediently, even if he _clearly_ did not feel like doing them. These were tasks like preparing breakfast and running the hotel on Sundays, making sure the staff members were doing what they were supposed to do and promoting the library. I had heard he was even trying to become a therapist _himself_ as well... but _that_ tall story _obviously_ was nothing but an urban myth, that mindlessly floated around the hotel's halls. 

Furthermore, talking about halls - it had come to my attention that sometimes, the hotel’s tenants hesitantly greeted Alastor when they passed him by in the hallways. It was hurriedly, and one could easily claim they only greeted him to avoid getting on his wrong side, but – these were sinners with some of their body parts being reformed.

They were genuinely _grateful_ he had brought them closer to Heaven.

They knew he had changed. That he _could_ change.

He may only have been changing for the sake of his plan – but he indeed, _unwittingly,_ had become a slightly more acceptable, more bearable soul in the process. Despite of his own pains, fears and worries. 

No matter how big of an absolute _tool_ the man was, that mindset was _admirable._

I did not have that mindset.

I had not changed for _anything_ or _anybody,_ not even myself.

That was why I was no match for him.

That was why I needed to save him.

  
**BbB**

  
It was about time I informed Alastor about the results my frantic researching of the past days had rewarded me with.

That is correct: I had been diligently searching for a cure to Alastor’s painful curse. I had read many books in the library – it was _astonishing_ just how many incredible and rare sources of knowledge that chamber held! – and I had even let the crazy ladybug cleaning lady teach me how to use the ‘internets’, to look further on those ‘sites’ as well.

“Wait are you telling me that you didn’t have internet when you were still alive?” the girl had rambled when I had – awkwardly – asked her to help me out with this shiny ‘PC’ I had found in the workspace of the library.

“No, I did not,” I truthfully answered her.

“Also FYI this is not my PC by the way and this is _certainly_ not the place where I either secretly listen in on Al and Charlie making out in the boring book room or write all of my smutty fanfics about RadioDust or AngelHusk or Alastor4All and post them anonymously online hahahahahaha.” 

“What are those strange, foreign words you spout,” I asked.

She cackled nervously as she turned the machinery on. “Never mind those!!!! Anyways _whoa,_ so you haven’t used the internet before??? But it’s like the _modern times_ and stuffs now, internet’s all over the place you _really_ should like know all about the internet if you just recently died to be honest hahaha unless you were a sexy monk living underneath a rock or something in real life wait were you?????? Were you a sexy rock-loving monk Bob?????”

“Something like that.”

“Aren’t monk’s supposed to be BOLD tough???? I mean no offense but you have like this really _nice_ hair all flowy and blonde just like Charlie’s almost like you’re an Angel or something I mean she is half an Angel after all and genuinely blonde hair’s kinda rare in Hell haha so yeah,” she rattled on.

“Would you _please_ just teach me about using the internets,” I simply begged her, already exasperated even though I had only been talking with her for three minutes.

Fortunately, aside from being a motor mouth that speaks about the most obscure topics, the ladybug demon – Niffty her name was, if I recalled correctly – proved to be a better teacher than she appeared to be. Within a single day, she had taught me all about looking up information in various digital ways, from various – and sometimes questionable – origins… and she decided to show me lots and lots of sites with pornographic content as well. For some reason. 

“I did not ask for erotica,” I sternly told Niffty.

“No - but there you go anyway!” She winked at me, which looked quite weird since she only had one massive eyeball. “Boys will be boys after all.”

“I want to leave this vale of tears.”

“You can even put down your preferences right there Bob you see????”

“How can I leave this vale of tears?”

“Ohhhhh they even have ANIME here!!!!!”

“Maybe I should click on that to get out of this—”

“NO DON’T CLICK ON _THAT_!”

All kinds of things happened then, but in a nutshell: after a bug exterminator of some sort had come to the hotel and had fixed the problem I had apparently caused by clicking on a cross sign that actually had not been a cross sign but a ‘computer virus’ (apparently, modern hardware could get sick?), I was finally able to use the internets as well for my research.

Thanks to that, my own memories and the many books I had worked through, I believed I had found a possible solution to Alastor’s deadly curse problem. I put all of it down on paper and studied it as thoroughly as I could, before making up my mind and leaving the confines of my bedroom (and the two stalking goat demons slumbering in there) to go to Princess Charlotte’s. 

It was, after all, 2 o‘clock in the early morning. It was not possible Alastor would be anywhere else around this time but in _there,_ wrapped around the one he loved.

At least one of us was.

  
**BbB**

  
It was not before I had already knocked on the princess’ bedroom door that the thought occurred to me that it was very much possible the princess herself would open up the bedroom door instead of Alastor.

Well.

Whoopsy-daisy.

I was (arguably) lucky, however, because when the lock on the door was clicked open and the wooden thing itself made way, not the dazzling eyes of Her Highness looked up at me, but two grouchy, mismatched ones looked _down_ on me. There was a dark, eerie chill _howling_ out of the room that made me wish for the bathrobe I had forgotten to put on upon leaving my own bedroom. It also made me realize that it was _not_ a wise idea to disturb the Radio Demon late at night… unless there was a very good reason.

And indeed, when Alastor recognized it was me, he opened the door a bit more and continued staring down at me with a quirked eyebrow. It looked like he had not been sleeping yet, but it did not look like he had been fully awake, either. His smile resembled something of a sarcastic smirk. 

“Bob,” he acknowledged.

“Alastor,” I nodded back.

“You’ve got some _nerve,_ disturbing me in the dead of the night.”

“So do you, opening the door while being stark-naked.”

He instantly smacked the door into my face.

A few minutes later, it opened again and Alastor came out – dressed in his nightwear this time – and shut the door behind him once more. I could hear his radio audience snorting in the background as he cleared his throat. 

“You’ve got some _nerve,_ disturbing me in the dead of the night.”

“Adamant on starting off _there,_ are you not?” I shrugged. “It does not matter, Alastor. It does not change the fact that I saw your pe—”

“Finish that sentence and find out what will happen with _yours._ _Please_.”

Since there was a persistent, mind-numbing, crackling radio static starting to ring through my head, I chose to not torment him any longer – and quickly stated that I indeed had a very good reason to look him up at this time. 

“It is about the Mark of the Fallen,” I informed him, as Alastor calmed down a little. “I might have found a way for you to cheat death.”

He rubbed his chin. His eyes kept flicker to the door behind him, as if he was afraid Princess Charlotte would appear behind him at any given time. Ultimately, the Radio Demon gave me a curt nod. 

“Alright – what have you got?” 

“I have looked into some sources in order to find out if you, a mortal soul, can recover from the deadly Mark of the Fallen.”

“Yes, that’s what you just said. Get on with it.”

“There is none and you will die. HOWEVER,” I hastily carried on, since pitch-black clouds of voodoo-magic _immediately_ packed together above Alastor’s head and his eyes gleamed warningly, “there _is_ a way of getting resurrected after that has happened.”

Again, Alastor restored his composure, albeit with a little more trouble this time.

“Are you saying that I’ll have to _die first_ in order to beat this blasted curse you put on me?”

“Yes.” I gave him a solemn look. “There is no other way. This curse is too powerful for a mere human being to survive. Not all hope is lost, though, because like I said, there is a way to come back to life after you have passed away. Well – back to the _after_ life. You will need God’s Horn for that – and His Holy Trumpet is in the possession of three Archangels: the Mighty Michael, the Righteous Gabriel and the Wise Raphael.”

“Carry on,” Alastor said, now all of his attention resting on me.

“In Heaven, there are a lot of Angelic beings – like myself, for example, even if I am but a simple Angel. Besides those, there are many important and respected Archangels, too. However, by far the most important, well-known and powerful Archangels are the three Archangels I just named. If my memories and the information I have looked up serve me well, I believe they might even be powerful enough to use God’s Horn and bring you back to life, once you have kicked the bucket.”

Much to my surprise, Alastor snorted. “Well, that’s not a very nice way of phrasing it.”

I furrowed my brows. “You are not a very nice person to begin with.”

“You got me there!”

I blinked, confused by his upbeat way of talking. I did not comprehend. Even though I had found some sort of answer to his terminal problem, it was not like Alastor had close ties with Heaven and could simply _ask_ of the three Archangels to please come down and resurrect him, after having died from the curse. And even if he _had,_ why in the world would the honorable Archangels help _him,_ a brutal serial killer that had gotten what he deserved? It honestly _amazed_ me to see he appeared to be perfectly at ease. He even seemed – _relieved,_ for some reason?

“You look satisfied,” I therefore told him. “Despite the fact I have no idea how you can come in contact with the Archangels. You _do_ realize that, do you not? I want to help you further, I _do,_ but because of the state and shape I am in right now, I cannot reach Heaven whatsoever. Furthermore, the minor chance of them responding to the call of me, a mere Angel that seemingly abandoned Heaven months ago, is next to nothing.”

Alastor looked at me, the brown and red orbs of his eyes glowing in the darkness of the corridor forebodingly. His yellow smile grew wider once more as he let out a dry, harsh laugh.

“I know more than enough.”

“Do you?” I asked.

“Well, yes – unless you have more to tell me?” His demeanor changed once more, becoming a bit less overbearing. Alastor snapped his fingers and made his microphone and its stand appear, seemingly out of nowhere. He leaned on the object, giving me a broad, curious grin. I realized he was not going to tell me what kind of plan he had in mind, so I decided to let it slide.

Unfazed, I nodded. “I do have more to tell you.”

“Pray tell, dear old Bobbert!”

I ignore the atrocious nickname and continued: “I have found a way to determine how much time you have left before snuffing it.”

“Snuffing it. Right. You’re having _fun,_ aren’t you?” The deer demon chuckled and rolled with his eyes. “Ah well… what is it, Bob?”

Wordlessly, I held out my hand towards him, my hand outstretched, my fingers spread open.

“You need to weave your cursed hand together with mine, Radio Demon.”

“Excuse me – I need to do _what_?” His smile lost much of its natural, powerful energy and Alastor looked at my hand as if he had never seen such a disgusting thing before in his entire (after)life. 

“Hold my hand, yes,” I stated. “That way, I can feel how much time there is left before you bite the dust. It’s a very reliable… measuring method, so to speak.”

“But why do I need to hold your hand like _that_? I only hold hands like that with – well, not with _you,_ in any case.”

“There is a good chance the spell I put on you is speeding up your death, the longer you have it inside of you. You were sick for quite a while, were you not? You are rather _weak_ at the moment. But alright.” I began to lower my hand. “Who am I to go against you? If you do not wish to know how much time you have left for _whatever_ elaborate scheme you have in mind, I will just—”

“Give me that stupid hand already, you plucked chicken.”

With a face that _screeched_ disdain and dismay, no matter how broad his mouth was, he grabbed my hand tightly with his sharp claws. It was not a pleasant experience – not for him, nor for me. But I closed my eyes, concentrated and after a short pause, I could already sense what his body, or at least the curse that was still roaming inside of it, was telling me.

“You have three months, two weeks and one day left,” I said.

“That’s not much.”

“You better hurry up then.”

“I _will_ ,” Alastor grumbled, narrowing his creepy eyes at me and dropping my hand with a scornful sneer.

“O-oh my _gosh_!”

Both me and the deer demon had heard the gentle gasp and temporarily froze in place. Then we looked around. Behind me was Niffty in her nightgown, wearing an adorable little nightcap, observing the two of us like she was watching one of those special movies on the internets.

“Hello Miss Niffty,” I said, giving her a little wave. She had grown on me.

“Oh my lord, not _Niffty_ ,” Alastor in turn said, paling.

“Alastor… you held hands with _Bob,_ your _arch nemesis_ ,” Niffty whispered, _scandalized._ “In the middle of the night, _right outside the bedroom door where your girlfriend sleeps_. Like a _Chad_.”

“Is that bad?” I asked.

Alastor shook his head at her, then shot me an urgent glare that told me to _**please** shut up_. “It’s not what you think, Niffty darling!”

“ _I ship it_ ,” she breathed.

“Niffty, I _swear_ it’s _nothing_ like that!”

“No no no no no, it’s alright, Al.” The tiny ladybug girl blushed and grinned her creepy teeth bare as she looked from Alastor to me and back. “I won’t say a word to anybody I promise!!! Your dirty little **_gay_** secret is safe with me…”

“Niffty, please…” Alastor groaned again – but the girl had spun around on her heels and disappeared into the blackness around us, her high-pitched giggling echoing through the hall for an unsettlingly long time.

For an equally long time, Alastor and I stared into the direction the small girl had fled into. Neither one of us knew what to say in response to what had happened and it was very uncomfortable. At last, the Radio Demon uttered a deep sigh, rubbed his head and glanced at me.

“Anyway… was that all, Bob?”

“That was all,” I confirmed.

“Well. Then I’m going back to bed, if you don’t mind. This night has been insane enough already.” He turned his back to me and reached for the door. 

I, too, turned around, letting out a breath of air I had apparently held in as well.

“Oh – and Bob?” he then said.

I looked over my shoulder. “Yes?”

“Thank you for your efforts.”

A final, almost thankful nod – and the bedroom door of the princess was shut once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyrano de Bergerac is not only a gifted duelist, a loyal soldier and a posh nobleman, but he is also a talented poet and musician. The man is gifted with many wonderful qualities – but in spite of all this, there’s one thing that makes him very insecure: his large nose. Thanks to that, Cyrano can’t bring himself to confess his love to his distant cousin, the lovely Roxane. One day, Roxane asks Cyrano to protect a certain man she fancies: Christian de Neuvillette, a young man who, like Cyrano, serves as one of the Gascon Cadets. She fears for his safety, and so, the gallant Cyrano agrees to do whatever he can to protect Christian.  
> Christian and Cyrano befriend one another and Christian tells Cyrano he would love to woo Roxane, but he’s too incompetent and dumb (his words, not mine) to do anything romantic. Cyrano therefore decides to become Christian’s ghostwriter: he writes the most beautiful letters and poems for Roxane and sends them to her… in Christian’s name. Roxane eventually ends up marrying Christian, before he’s send off with Cyrano to fight against the Spaniards. Cyrano keeps on writing letters to Roxane and Roxane tells 'Christian' in one letter that she has fallen _so_ deeply in love with him, that even had he been an ugly man, she’d love him anyway. Christian realizes that this basically means that Roxane loves Cyrano – and then he gets mortally wounded. As he lays dying, Cyrano manages to convince his friend that Roxane was talking about _him_ and _not_ Cyrano, and Christian dies in peace. Instead of taking his chance, Cyrano keeps quiet about his love for Roxane and fifteen years(!) later, when he himself is on his deathbed, Roxane finally finds out it had been _Cyrano_ writing her those letters all along. She tearfully tells him she loves him, after which Cyrano dies.
> 
> The romantic play the French poet Edmund Rostand (1868-1918) wrote was partly based on the adventures of the _real_ Cyrano de Bergerac (1619-1655). You can pretty much see the play as a slowburn slashfic Rostand made in honor of the much-admired, big-nosed Frenchman, who sadly enough died way too young, at age 36.


	13. Hansel and Gretel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the schooltrip to the Rijksmuseum got cancelled. 
> 
> _*sobs quietly*_
> 
> I get it, though: things are getting worse and worse in the Netherlands every day, if I have to believe the news. Tonight, at 7 PM, our government will come up with more and new guidelines for the people to follow. They are needed - believe me, they are - and I hope these new regulations and rules will have their effect in time. After all, it would be very nice if this place became a bit less… COVID-19-ish…^^;;;
> 
> A promise is a promise, however, so here you go: **an early update!** ^^ Yay!  
> The next chapter will be up Wednesday, next week. Just so you know!
> 
> Welp - I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! I sure as heck liked writing it, in any case! 8DDDD

It was Sunday – less than a week before mom and dad would throw that dreadful party of theirs. 

And since it was Sunday, I was still lying in bed, all warm and snug, having wrapped all the covers of the bed around me – I mean, Alastor was busy preparing breakfast and stuff downstairs now anyway, so I could just go on and relax for a little while longer. God, and really, if somebody came barging in right now and told me that it would be okay for me to spend the rest of this day lazing around like this… maybe with a neat movie on the side, some snacks, some chocolate, preferably _all together_ and _all at once_ … gosh, I would’ve been totally fine with that!

But no – I already knew I wouldn’t do that. In about a few minutes, I’d better check the time, take a shower and get dressed, and then head on to the dining room to see what kind of theme Al had decided to go with this time. I kind of hoped it would be a French breakfast – I could seriously go for a nice, crispy croissant right now…

With a groan, I kicked the comfy sheets and covers and duvets and pillows (oh my god, just how many things did I even keep on the bed?) off me and sat up. My exploded, unruly hair slowly curled around my face as I smacked my lips, threw one of my hands on the nightstand and felt around for my phone. 

I did find my phone – but I also found a sticky note attached to it. 

I hauled in both the note and my phone, staring at the note. It read the following:

  
_“Note 1:_

_To my sheet-hogging sweetheart,_

_Good morning! I hope you slept well, my darling Charlie, because today, you will be needing all of your energy. I’m not going to tell you yet what I mean with that (and no, my love, I don’t mean that, shame on you for instantly thinking about that, you little pervert)._

_However, I will tell you that I have prepared a nice breakfast for you alone, and it’s waiting for you just outside of the bedroom. Now I know you don’t like to eat apart from your precious sinners, but please humor me for now, alright? After all, it’s all part of the plan…_

_\- Alastor”_

  
Feeling a jumpy, warm feeling pooling up inside of me, I chuckled and reread the note, noticing it said ‘note 1’. 

Note 1? Where there going to be more notes? 

Unable to contain my curiosity, I got out of bed and walked over to the bedroom door, opening it. In front of it, Razzle and Dazzle stood, looking up at me gleefully as Razzle held up a tray with a delicious-looking breakfast. It wasn’t a French breakfast – the little flag that was stuck in one of the sandwiches told me it was, in fact, a _Belgian_ breakfast – but it was an extremely appealing sight anyway. Dazzle held up something as well: a little note.

“Aww, thank you, cuties!” I said, patting them both on the head before taking the tray and note from their hooved paws (hands? Feet? Hmmm). “What a wonderful surprise! It looks so tasty – thank you so much!”

I had wanted to ask my little bodyguards to come and join me, but as soon as I took my eyes off them for even one moment – to put the note on the tray – the two of them were gone already. 

I – felt a little pang when I found myself all alone in that hallway again. I knew that they these days rather enjoyed spending their time with Bob, since he… well, he actually gave them _attention. I_ most of the time was too busy with other things to really pay them any mind, so it was only logical that they, this time, too, thought it was better to leave me be. 

Okay – the next time I had the opportunity, I’d take Razzle and Dazzle out on a nice picnic, just the three of us! It’s been way too long since we did anything like that and it might be the perfect opportunity to catch up with one another! Yeah! 

Feeling very happy with this decision, I retreated myself into the bedroom, sat down on my bed and let my eyes wander over the neatly arranged and decorated tray for a minute or two. Multiple slices of dark, rustic bread, covered with a thick spread of pâté and soft cheese, were one the right and a plate with a considerable amount of smoked ham and dried sausages was put on the left. There also was a cute, chic-looking cup of tea that smelled of peach and honey – but by far the most interesting part of the entire tray was the big plate in the middle of it, which had a couple of Belgian waffles stacked on top of each other, covered with powdered sugar and strawberries.

I felt my mouth watering and I swallowed. 

Ohhhhhh my _god._

This was freaking _amazing_! Forget that stinky croissant – this was even _better_!

I allowed myself to stuff my face with all this delectable food in the most _barbaric_ way possible (seriously, it was a good thing my former etiquette teachers didn’t see me wolfing down this meal like this), and, since I was a very impatient girl, I also folded open the little note I had gotten from Dazzle, wondering what other message would be waiting for me inside.

  
_“Note 2:_

_To my sandwich-gobbling darling,_

_Bon appétit! I hope this breakfast is to your liking. I made sure to focus on all the flavors I know you enjoy so much. Everything to get you in the sunny mood I want you to be in, my love!_

_Now, please don’t waste too much time with eating this meal, for I am expecting you in a certain room. I’m not telling you which one yet – you first need to get yourself ready! Around 11 o’clock, somebody will escort you to the chamber where I will be waiting for you…_

_That reminds me: please make sure to visit the bathroom before leaving!_

_\- Alastor”_  


Oh _wow,_ I could already tell this was going to be so much _fun_!

I gobbled up the piece of bread I still had in my mouth and took a big sip of tea, before I finally let myself giggle and squeal in delight. I wasn’t sure what exactly Alastor was up to, but I was already liking it a lot. This was turning into one big surprise scavenger hunt! I _loved_ doing those! What would be next? Where would his notes lead me to? Ohh, I was getting so very _excited_!

I also read this note one more time. Someone would be at the door at 11 o’clock? I looked around for my phone, found it discarded on the sheets and picked it up, glancing at the screen.

10:31 AM.

I almost choked in a big chunk of waffle-with-powdered-sugar. Oh god, oh god, I had less than half an hour to get ready – oh _shit_!

Hastily, I ate the things I really _wanted_ to eat and then I got up, hurrying myself over to the bathroom – after all, Al had said I needed to visit the bathroom before leaving, so...

I stumbled into the bathroom – and my eyes were almost instantly drawn to an elegant red blouse with bishop sleeves, and a black, pleated skirt that – by the looks of it – would just reach over my knees. They just… dangled there, on a coat hanger, and there was a little note neatly put underneath the clothes.

Such _cute clothes_ , by the way! So _adorable_! I found myself hopping and happily clapping my hands before I could stop myself! 

Since I was already short on time anyway – I still had to put on some make-up as well, after all, and oh _crap,_ don’t even get me _started_ on my damn bed-hair – I left the little note where it was for now, got rid of my PJ’s and slipped into the brand-new set that was waiting to be put on. 

I slipped into the clothes with ease and it... well, it kind of surprised me to find out it all fitted me _really_ nicely. Sure, Al had bought me a dress before, but I remember that I had to adjust some things in order for me to wear it like it was supposed to be worn. This time though, both clothing pieces fit me like they were specifically _tailored_ for me. They felt really nice, too. Very comfortable!

I had a hunch what Alastor was up to – I happened to notice the kind of shoes he had placed with the clothes – so I decided to tie my hair up in a casual ponytail, just in case it would get in the way. As I struggled with weak, snapping hair elastics that couldn’t handle my thick, heavy locks, I had somehow managed to open the third note – and read it, just when I finally found a scrunchie that actually did the trick.

  
_“Note 3:_

_To my rubber-band-destroying, blonde angel,_

_In case you are – rightfully – wondering about the clothes, Rosie, Vaggie and Niffty helped me out a great deal._

_\- Alastor._

_Ps: this is the last note. Yes, I know it’s a bit anticlimactic, only three little notes to follow of which the third is as ridiculously short as it is, but please keep in mind this is the first time I’m doing something like this and that… pretty much everything I do with you is a first for me._   
_I’ll get better at it. I promise you I will.”_

  
I smiled and bit on my lower lip, endeared by the sentiment of the little letter. Then I put it away, took a look in the mirror and focused on improving my face some more.  
  
I could easily imagine Al rewriting these silly notes over and over again and in the end, just settling on the ones I had eventually read, feeling extremely embarrassed about them, but pushing himself to get on with them anyway. Just because he knows I’d like a romantic gesture like this – even if it is as awkward and clumsy as humanly possible.

Al was _really_ doing his best to make me feel better, like he had promised me he would.

He had promised me a _lot_ of things, though. He had promised to let him take care of things, to make sure mom and dad’s party would be a great success and that I would enjoy it to the fullest, he had promised me he would eventually tell me about the things he hid away from me – if I gave him some time to mentally prepare himself for that – and he… well..

 _“…and if you let me, I will spend the rest of the time I’m allowed to be at your side to cheer you up and cheer you on.”_

Something like that, right?

What had he meant with that, exactly?

I mean – it was fluffy and romantic and sappy as heck, sure, but I couldn’t help but note a sad undertone to it. And it wasn’t just that one time – I had noticed it more often. Honest, heartfelt-spoken words, hiding a unsaid, bittersweet truth. 

Why? Why was that? Had it something to do with the things he was hiding from me? Was he, knowingly or not, feeding me little hints and bits of information that I needed to know?

I – didn’t want to think about it too much. I hated that Alastor let me wait and almost _forced_ me to speculate about the secrets that just wouldn’t pass his lips, but I knew I could trust his word: if he said he was going to tell me, he _was_ going to tell me. I simply needed to be patient.

Even though that was getting harder and harder every day. 

Well – not that I was much _better._ After all, I, too, had to tell him something… and I, too, was struggling with… just spitting it out. 

But anyway.

When I felt satisfied about the way I looked, I turned to my phone again. The little digits on the screen _just_ changed to 11 o’clock, so I let out a breath of relief: I had made it! Just in time, sure, but I had made it! Well done, me!

And indeed: not even two seconds later, I could hear someone knocking politely on the bedroom door. I glanced at my reflection one last time, randomly patted the soft fabric of my skirt, breathed in deeply – and got a move on.

  
**CcC**

  
I didn’t know who to expect when I opened up my bedroom door, but it wasn’t _Bob,_ of all sinners. And yet, _there_ he was, with his usual shabby hair, the usual dead eyes and the usual ‘well-okay-but-I-just-don’t-give-a-crap-about-your-opinion, _Judy_ ’-attitude, beaming _right_ off his entire being.

Or… or _did_ it?

To be completely honest, upon seeing me, Bob seemed to stand up a bit more, raising his head and bringing back just a tiny speck of light in his eerie, blue eyes. Also, I didn’t see the torn, long black jacket he usually wore hanging from his skinny body. No, he instead wore just a – well, a fairly _normal_ get-up, for once. A decent set of pants and a simple, yet dignified turtleneck sweater – which both suited him very nicely. His damaged wings still looked as painful as they did when he first arrived at the hotel, but they were slightly less bare. A few feathers had actually started growing back, and the feathers looked frail, yet healthy.

Did - did this mean that the therapy was helping him? _Healing_ him?

It did, didn’t it? 

I could feel my eyes spreading themselves wider and I put my hands together, opening my mouth to voice my happiness upon seeing him so _hopeful,_ for once. He beat me to it, though.

“Sweet Saint Mary Magdalene, you look positively _sublime_ ,” he blurted out. Then he – clearly – felt a bit weird about his words and looked away from me.

I blinked, also surprised by this outburst. But I recovered from my initial surprise fairly quickly and grinned happily at him, folding my hands on my back.

“Right back at you, Bob! Just _look_ at you! All dressed up and looking as spiffy as spiffy can be!”

“I could be even spiffier,” Bob earnestly and _very_ dryly announced, with absolutely 0% humor in his words. “But that might not be the best idea, considering that I am in Hell and such.”

“You are allowed to be as spiffy as you want to be– even in Hell,” I told him. “So if you ever feel the need to look even more handsome, just _sparkle away_ , Bob!”

I chuckled, but the chuckling stopped when he suddenly looked me in the eyes. His own were hard, cold and unreadable as always, but there was… _more_ to them. What could that be? 

“Would you like to see me like that, Princess Charlotte?” he asked.

“What, all… sparkly and stuff?” I let out a slightly nervous laugh. “Well – um – I guess? If that makes you feel better… sure!” 

“That is good to know, since that day _will_ come. One day. I wonder what you will say when you see me like that. I wonder what you will say. What you will _do_.”

I didn’t really understand what he was saying, but I could tell it was important. So I listened carefully and gave him a reassuring smile, promising him to accept him anyway, no matter what he would end up looking like.

“You are a kind soul,” he said, with the slightest hint of a small, sorrowful smile appearing on his lips. “Please do not say anything you might regret later.”

I frowned. “Huh? What do you—”

Bob interrupted me before I could continue. “I see that you have put on the clothes Alastor prepared for you. You look breathtaking, even if these clothes are not that special, nor even remotely suitable. One can only imagine just what an amazing beauty you could be if you would wear garments that are truly fit for a noble, wonderful princess of your stature – not some casual clothes every simple woman can put on. However, I must say you wear those very well as well.”

For a few seconds, I fell silent. His words made me feel a bit… attacked? Insulted? Whatever it was I exactly felt, it wasn’t a particularly _positive_ sensation. 

“I happen to _like_ dressing like a ‘simple’ woman, as you put it,” I heard myself say, sounding sterner than I had meant to. “And I like these clothes, too. They’re nice and good enough for me. I’m not as… princess-y as you might think, Bob. Don’t make me bigger or better than the person I am.”

“My apologies. I am only stating what is on my mind, Princess Charlotte.” Not even a shred of emotion was on his face as he made an offhand gesture to the empty corridor behind him. “Moving right along, would you please care to follow me?”

I nodded, glad to hear he didn’t press the princess-stuff, and I gingerly followed him suit as he – pretty _abruptly_ – started walking through the hallway.   
  


**CcC  
  
**

I looked around us as we walked. 

Safe for the two of us, there wasn’t anybody in the hallway. It was a fairly normal sight on a Sunday morning (most sinners were downstairs now, either eating their breakfast or doing other things), but the quietness of the maroon-colored corridor was getting a bit on my nerves – especially since Bob was perfectly fine with… promenading right on through in complete silence and didn’t even attempt to strike up another conversation. 

I guess it was up to _me_ to liven things up. 

“So…” I broke the silence, making Bob glance at me, “I guess Alastor didn’t string you up in the entrance hall this time, huh!”

I instantly wanted to kick myself. _Amazing,_ Charlie! What a _good_ topic to talk about!

“No, he did not. That is why I am walking _here,_ and why I am not hanging from the entrance hall’s ceiling right now,” Bob carefully explained to me.

I smiled sheepishly. “Um… yes. I – can see that, Bob.”

“No need to go Bob-airfishing today.”

“H-ha ha… hooray?”

“Hooray indeed.”

The awkward conversation fell flat again, as it _always_ seemed to do – but I was determined to keep on talking with him, at least until we had reached our destination.

“So – um – are the two of you getting along a bit better now, since you’re… you know, escorting me to him for him?” I asked.

“Does it _look_ like that is the case?” he countered my question, giving me a look which was a strange mix in-between rock-hard, stoic bewilderment and sheer, uncaring amazement (and yes, that looked _exactly_ as strange as it sounds).

I smiled and shrugged. “To me, it looks like you, at the very least, have grown to hate Al a little _less,_ yes.”

“It is not.”

“Oh.”

“I still hate him.”

“O-oh.”

“ _Very_ much.”

“So, did he force you to do this? To pick me up, I mean?”

“No.”

“Then _why_ are you doing this for him?”

“I am not doing this for him. I happen to like walking in this particular corridor.”

I had to stifle a giggle. “Uh-huh.”

“It is a very _pleasant_ corridor.”

“Right...” 

“Nothing like the other corridors, who look precisely the same.”

“Oh my _god,_ Bob.”

“It is probably the atmosphere.”

“Sure. Still doesn’t explain why you picked me up though.”

He gave me a vacant stare. I had to snort and couldn’t tell if I was irritating him or if he was mildly amused by my helpless laughter – and I wouldn’t find out either, because just when he began to tell me a (very weak and odd) explanation on how and why he happened to pick me up and bring me to where Al was, I noticed we were no longer walking, but standing still… 

…near the barely used, heavily neglected ballroom of the hotel.

Normally, no light would come out of this room, even when the door was open, since its many big, ceiling-high windows most of the time were covered with gray, old, dusty curtains. The doors were open now as well – but this time, a vivid, yellow/orange ray of sleepy sunlight fell on the carpeted floor of the corridor, giving away that something was _happening_ in the ballroom – something I would like a _lot._

It _beckoned_ me.

“Is this the place?” I immediately asked Bob, unable to contain my growing anticipation and therefore accidentally cutting him off mid-sentence.

However, he adjusted to the situation right away and nodded. “Yes. This is the place, Princess Charlotte.”

He gave me a slight bow – then turned around, marching away. Just like that. 

O-oh…

It all happened pretty fast. Too fast, maybe? I looked at Bobs shrinking and eventually disappearing figure for a little while, fearing that I had hurt his feelings. Or was this all part of Alastor’s plan, since my goat demon servants had also vanished just as sudden? I didn’t know for sure, but I was pretty certain it had been very rude of me to just let my thoughts wander off during a conversation – especially since it had been a rare, close-to _fun_ one with the usually so aloof and uncaring Bob.

I’d apologize to him later. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be too mad.

Right now however, I felt too excited about what was waiting for me in the ballroom to spend too much time dwelling on what was up with Bob. It was about time to get into the ballroom and see just what Alastor was up to – and I – cautiously, discreetly – walked into the light coming out of the normally so bare and so harshly-ignored chamber.

  
**CcC**

  
Barely had I taken one single, delicate step into the enormous ballroom, or the memories I had almost forgotten about this room, about a time when I was younger and mom and dad were still using this hotel as their vacation chalet and this ballroom as an actual _ballroom,_ flooded my mind and senses. 

It… it looked just as _gorgeous_ as it did back then. Maybe even _better._

The large, wooden, boarded floor had obviously been cleaned and polished with a good amount of wax – and it _showed._ It shone proudly in the bright sunlight that came through the clear, washed windows, almost blinding me in the process. The ugly curtains were removed and replaced by golden-colored ones, tied together with sturdy, yet elegant ropes. The curtains matched the just as regal and luminous-looking wallpaper, wonderfully decorated with nothing but old paintings, some cleverly hidden-away speakers and a single clock. I also recognized the three curly and imposing golden chandeliers, hanging from the ceiling and giving the entire room an even more overwhelming air. 

Pressing my hands against my mouth and feeling some tears welling up, I made my way into the ballroom. It was so great to see it restored to its original glory once again – I couldn’t help but feel sentimental. Had Alastor done this? _All_ of this? 

I needed to see him. Oh god – I needed to see him _right now_ and hug the life out of him for… for doing this for me. It was too much and it was just enough at the same time. I couldn’t even decently smile anymore. Where was he…?

After wiping the few happy tears out of my eyes and looking around a bit more, I spotted him, standing in front of one of the windows, his back turned towards me. As I hastily approached him, I saw he wasn’t wearing his usual red clothes and trousers, but a _very dramatic_ loose poet shirt, all frilly and lacy and Victorian, and some dark, tight pants.

So tight.

So very, _very_ tight.

Oh sweet mother of _god._

They were _tight._

They were so _tight,_ they hugged Al’s beautiful butt so _wonderfully_ and they therefore made his ass look even _more_ desirable than it already _was_ in my eyes – and that was _saying_ something! 

I loved those pants. I loved that butt. I loved that butt in those pants and right now, you could have married me off to Alastor right on the spot, just because of those award-winning pants the man was wearing and teasing me with. 

Oh crap, I _really_ needed to get over to him and grope him as soon as possible, before the godliness of his magnificent buns would be the death of me.

Snickering and quickly gulping down the shameful amount of saliva that had gathered inside of my mouth, I sneaked closer to Alastor’s unsuspecting bu—figure. I kept a good eye on him as I slowly crept closer, since I didn’t want to pounce on him and suddenly grope his – I don’t know – ugly pirate shirt instead of those sweet, _sweet_ cheeks. I had a _mission,_ after all.  
  
Luckily for me, Alastor was seemingly lost in his own thoughts as he stared out of the window. It took a while for me, but ultimately, I noticed the discomfort in the shape of his body – the spasms that visibly shot through his trembling, no doubt aching hand. Soon enough, Alastor’s butt was less interesting to me than his well-being was, and I decided to walk the last few meters to him normally.

When I was right behind him – and he for some reason _still_ hadn’t sensed my presence – I carefully wound my arms around him and pressed myself against him, _hopefully_ in a comforting way, burying my face into the fabric of his lame shirt.

“Hi Al.”  
  
Alastor was Alastor, so of _course_ he kind of jumped like a frightened cat upon feeling somebody touching him without any warning – and of _course_ his dark shadow was circling me in a frigid, chaotic manner within seconds. However, as soon as both Al and his shadow recognized me, he relaxed, the shadow disappeared and I could feel him breathe out a sigh of relief.  
  
A hand was laid on my hands, still clutched around him. “Why hello there, my darling Charlie.”

“Are you in pain?” I muttered, moving my face away from his shirt a bit.

“Not at all.”

“Lie again and I _will_ bite your ankles. Al.”

At that, he had to snigger. Then one of my hands managed to found his right one – the hurt one – and he didn’t make any sound anymore as I lightly brushed my fingers over the scar marking his skin. It felt warm to the touch.

“It stings a little,” he then admitted.

“Let me see?”

I let go of him and Alastor turned around to face me. He didn’t protest, but winced ever so slightly when I took his hand in mine and studied the back of it. The silver cross was a tad brighter than it was before and his hand felt a bit swollen, but other than that, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

He was in pain, though. I knew he was.

“Al,” I started, looking up at him, “if it hurts you that badly and you’re feeling under the weather, maybe you should—”

“Sorry for interrupting you, my love, but I was wondering – have you already guessed it?”

I stared into his huge, twinkling eyes. In spite of his pain, the pure, unabashed excitement he practically emitted was too brilliant, too intense for it to be an entire act. I could also sense an urgent, unasked question – to please stop talking about that stupid hand of his.

If it could keep his mind off his pain and if I could make him feel better, then maybe I should just play along, it flashed through my head.

So I beamed a cheerful grin right back at him. “Yeah, I guessed it alright – you want to dance with me, don’t you?”

“Ten points for the lovely lady in the black skirt!” He laughed, quickly caught my hand with his and planted a kiss of the back of mine. “That’s correct, my darling princess: although we have danced before, I don’t think we have ever engaged in actual ballroom dancing. And since we’re going to attend to your parents’ sophisticated party, we cannot let this perfect opportunity to practice our dancing go to waste!”

I burst into laughter as he gripped my hand a bit firmer and dragged me over to the middle of the dancefloor.

“Alright then! No time to waste – we’re going to practice as many as we can, both the standard dances and the Latin ones,” he said, as he rummaged through the pockets of his _sinfully_ tight pants, “so first off: the waltzes – both the English and the Viennese one, the Foxtrot, the Slowfox, the Quickstep and the Tango. And then, we’ll move right along with some Rhumba, Mambo, Samba, Pasodoble, the Cha-Cha and – one of my personal favorites: the Jive! Now, I assume you know some of them—”

“All of them,” I corrected him.

Alastor gave me a genuinely impressed look. “My goodness! Is that so? Do you know the basics of each and every ballroom dance, my dear?”

“The _basics_?” I puffed up my chest. “Alastor, honey cakes – you don’t seem to realize that there is _one_ giant _plus_ to having grown up as a spoiled princess: I got _tons_ of teachers for _tons_ of stuff – like dancing!”

“ _Honey cakes_ ,” Al repeated, shaking his head in disbelieve.  
  
I ignored it and quickly stammered: “U-uhm, a-anyway – yeah! I don’t want to brag, but with all due respect – I’m a pretty good dancer!”

“Oh ho, _are_ you, now?” Al teased, finally pulling out a remote control of his pockets and turning on the music. Soon, tunes were whirling around in the room, in the air, prickling our senses and fueling our shared elation about the prospect of dancing with one another even more.

In the meantime, I kept on boasting.

“You could learn a thing or two from me, Al.” I winked at him. “Good for you.”

Alastor’s invisible radio audience roared and cheered fanatically at that, loving the way I challenged their host, and Al just grinned his eternal grin, letting it spread all over his face as he pulled my hands off his ass (I had no idea how they had gotten _there_ all of a sudden) and put the two of us in a starting pose.

“My, those are some big words! However, can you live up to them? If you’re truly as good of a dancer as you claim you are, then you better show me how this Tango is done, Ms. Grabbyhands.”

“Oh I’ll _show_ you, Future Mr. Magne.”

Alastor was temporarily at a loss for words and I blushed heavily, straightening my back and placing the thumb of my left hand right underneath his armpit, as it was taught to me.

“Charlie, did you just call me—”

“Yeah. I mean… y-yes.” I peeked up at him from underneath my bangs. “You have none. S-so when the time’s there… and if you’d _want_ it… I’ll give mine to you.”

The music played on in the background. It was some lovely classical music and _oh,_ I really wanted to dance, and I knew for a fact that Al really wanted to dance as well. Unfortunately, dancing was postponed for at least ten minutes after that little remark of mine, since Al apparently found it necessary to take my face and kiss the ever-loving goodness out of me, right after I had uttered these words.

But since I was more than happy to smooch him back and delight in knowing that he wouldn’t mind, he wouldn’t mind, _he wouldn’t mind!_ , this slight delay maybe wasn’t so unfortunate after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When a huge famine settles over the land, two kids from a starving family are left behind in the woods. Late in the evening, however, Hansel and Gretel (who had left a trail of pebbles behind as their parents led them into the woods) return to their home. The next day, however, the children are once again dumped in the forest. Hansel tries to leave behind a trail of bread this time, as he couldn’t get pebbles, but birds eat the bread, and the poor kids are lost for sure this time.  
> Fortunately, they discover a cute house made out of gingerbread, cake and candy, and the hungry children begin to feast on the house. The owner of the house, an old and ugly blind witch, then tricks them into coming in. As soon as they do, Hansel is put in a cage and Gretel is enslaved. The witch plans to eat Hansel, but he manages to fool her by holding out a thin bone whenever she comes to check if the boy’s gotten fat enough already. Eventually, the witch gets fed up with waiting and prepares the oven to cook Hansel. She tries to trick Gretel into checking the over (so that she can push her in and eat her as well), but Gretel isn’t _that_ stupid and turns the tables on her, telling the witch to check the over herself. The witch does, she gets pushed in, and as the screaming woman meets her fiery, burning end, Gretel frees Hansel. The kids ransack the place and escape into the woods, where they find their way back to their house. They discover their mother has died in the meantime and their father is a broken man, but as soon as his kids return home (with all the valuable stolen goods they took from the witch), things are a-okay again! 
> 
> A German fairy tale, collected by the Brothers Grimm. It’s pretty well-known and popular in Europe.


	14. The Red Shoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how about that new Alastor-comic that came out a few days ago, huh? It was a very nice read, and it's also pretty cool to see some 'good' sides to Alastor!^^ Oh, just in case you haven't read the comic I'm talking about yet, you can find it [here](https://www.hazbinhotel.com/alastor-comic/page-1)!
> 
> Also: [Charlotte](https://twitter.com/Loonette3) made a few lovely drawings of Bob and Charlie. Yes. It happened! And it's so CUTE and BITTERSWEET! <3 <3 <3 You can see them for yourself [here](https://twitter.com/Loonette3/status/1316565312779714560)!^^
> 
> As for this chapter - it's… quite a long one, actually? Not sure how that happened. It's also probably the fluffiest chapter I have written so far, so here's hoping you'll enjoy its disgustingly sweet corniness to its fullest. XDDD That would make me happy!
> 
> (Also: Charlie calls her ex-boyfriend - Seviathan - Harold. That has a reason - you'll find out later!)

I found out that dancing with Alastor was much like breathing air.

It felt _easy._ It felt _natural._ It just _started,_ seemingly out of the blue, without me having to think hard about how to do it and when to do it – and the rest simply unfolded readily right after the first few, still-hesitant, steps had been made. 

As a man who was obsessed with keeping things in check and every situation under control, it was both _normal_ Alastor would be a great dancer... as it was not normal at _all._

But the way he leaded me over the shiny dancefloor, whether it was during a strict and rule-bounded dance like the Slow Fox or during a dance that allowed more happy, peppy, loose moves, like the Cha-Cha – it showed me that Alastor had quite some experience with dancing and moving his lean, flexible body to the beat of the music, no matter what kind of rhythm he was challenged with. He didn’t falter, he simply went along with what the circumstances offered him – and he obviously _enjoyed_ every moment of it to its fullest.

Pulling me flush against him, steering me away with a push to my hands, catching me back in his arms and leading or twirling me in whatever direction he needed me to be, barely using any force or clear encouragements, but his mere body language alone… 

The subtle, yet clear hints of his impressive and well-developed mobility as he moved his feet and guided me through the ballroom, fluently adjusting himself and his movements to whatever melody was playing in the background, non-verbally demanding all of my attention to be directed at him, and him _only…_

The steadfast, confident grip of his clawlike hands on my waist, on my hand, the way he looked at me – just how he _looked_ at me, his eyes unusually big and expressive, _brimming_ with unabashed excitement and glee as he obviously had the time of his _life_ dancing with me like this… 

It _dazzled_ me! _Amazed_ me!

And I _loved_ it!

Seeing him like this, dancing with him like this – I loved loved _loved_ it, so _much_!

You see, I was taught how to dance by teachers, demons and sinners that, understandably, only danced with me because they were told to do so, because they needed to please me or because they wanted to leave a certain impression on me. Therefore, many of my dance partners (if not _all_ of them) had felt stiff and uncertain to dance with. _Especially_ if I tried and compared their dance qualities and capacities to my own, which were… well, more developed, more spontaneous. Their movements just… weren’t as _smooth_ as mine, their steps were off and my poor toes had been accidentally stepped on more times than I could count, over the past years. 

My dance partners did their best, most of the time… but they didn’t really have _fun_ while dancing with me.

Mind you, it didn’t exactly _bother_ me, per se. However, it did remind me that, although dancing was a pleasant and easy activity for _me_ to do, it didn’t necessarily mean it was just as enjoyable for _everybody else_. Which was fine! We’re all different, after all. 

I didn’t, for example, _needed_ to have a lover that loved dancing just as much as I did. As long as I had a love interest that, at the very least, wouldn’t mind dancing with me if I happened to ask them for a dance, I wouldn’t mind they lacked the same passion I had for this lovely hobby.

Like... well, Harold never liked dancing, but he _was_ good at it, since he – like me – had been following dancing classes from a young age. It felt, uhm, ‘professional’ when I danced with him, but it didn’t feel _exciting._ Or… uh, enjoyable.

Vaggie, on the other hand, was – forgive me for this, Vag – _awful_ at dancing and had only ever danced with me to do me a favor. She hated the fact she couldn’t keep up with me and would get frustrated with the dance moves, which ultimately leaded to us stopping dancing altogether and Vaggie spending the rest of the evening either sulking or apologizing to me for being such an atrocious dancer.

And all of my ex-lovers _before_ the two of them… heck, I couldn’t even _remember_ what their dancing abilities were like. Kind of gives away just how impressive they were, ha ha…

But Al!

Oh my god, _Al_!

He was the first romantic partner I had that actually loved dancing just as much as I did, and he had more than enough experience and enthusiasm to not only keep up with me, but bring out the _best_ in my own dancing, too. He accomplished what all of my other lovers combined had never been able to do, while dancing with them: _making me enjoy myself so much that I was afraid my heart wouldn’t be able to take it._

I laughed so much – I had so much fun, it didn’t even matter how much my body perspired or how wheezily my breath had become after dancing with Al for what seemed to be ages. Moving with Alastor like this, being able to let myself go on the dancefloor and have this secret, playful, unspoken conversation with him – it brought me more satisfaction and pure, stupid _bliss_ than I had _ever_ experienced on the dancefloor before.

So I danced with Alastor, I happily reacted to his suave, gliding body, and he responded just as ecstatically to mine. It was so _great_ \- I wasn't able to stop grinning or keep my eyes or hands off of him, and I felt the happiest in _weeks!_

If only this joy could last forever! 

  
**CcC**

  
It couldn’t, however. Of course it couldn’t, because no matter how much fun it was to dance to my heart’s content with Alastor like this, we really _were_ getting dangerously out of breath – and at a certain moment, Alastor just calmly pressed me against his frilly poet shirt and slowed down his movements. I at first wanted to wiggle myself free from his sweaty grasp and attempt to entice him into speeding up his pace again, making me whirl around just one more time, let me have one last quick jolt of erratic frivolity… 

…but then I heard the insane beating of his heart, pounding against his ribcage so _fast_ and so _hard_ that I got the message and relaxed, at last. 

I felt one of Al’s hands gliding into my hair, pushing me against him some more. The other one held on to my hand, squeezing it lightly. I smiled, suddenly realized how _exhausted_ I was as well, and leaned more into him. My free hand gripped the back of his shirt.

Like that, we kind of slow-danced around for a while, panting audibly, trying to catch our breath. It was nice. Cooling down like this – it was delightful, even though neither of us said anything. But that was okay. Sometimes, you didn’t _need_ to say anything, really.

Nuzzling my face into his chest for a bit before tilting it up, I eventually cleared my throat.

“That… that was great, Al.”

To be honest, ‘great’ wasn’t good enough to describe just how happy this dance session with Alastor had made me, not by _far_ even, but I had used up most of my energy already, and the only word that had come to my still-recovering mind was ‘great’ – so I went with it.

He was content with that, though, and put his chin on my head with a pleased sigh. “I’m glad, my love… I’m very glad.”

“You’re an amazing dancer. I – I had kind of expected that… _hoped_ that… but still. You blew me away.” I let my eyes flutter shut for a bit. “I might have fallen in love with you a little bit more because of that alone, darling.”

Alastor made a sound that was something in-between a yelp and a huff, before he hastily let go of my hand, in order to just… bend down, wrap his arms around me and press my face into his shirt even more, leaving a few speechless kisses in the nape of my neck. 

I chuckled, rubbed his back and carried on, since I wanted to praise him even more. He absolutely deserved it, after all. 

“I also like how you prepared all of this, Al. The clothes, the music, the helpers, the cute little notes… you put a lot of work into all of this, I can tell. I loved it. I loved all of it. You did a good job... and you made me very happy!”

I hugged him as warmly as I was able to, clutching his ugly shirt and resting my chin on top of his shoulder.

“I love you,” I heard him utter.

I was a bit surprised as to why he sounded so emotional all of a sudden. I didn’t pay too much attention to it though, because I, too, felt a bit unstable (thanks to all that dancing and now all that sweet nonsense from Al). For this reason, I was quiet for a bit as I stroke over the back of his neck.

“I love you too, Al,” I ultimately muttered. Then I sighed: “It’s too _bad_ though.”

“What is too bad?” he asked, _right_ away, as I thought he would.

“Well,” I mused, “you have a pretty _nice_ body, Al. At first glance, you might look a scrawny, thin man that could blow away at once whenever there’s a mild breeze going on – but you have a _fine,_ shapely torso. You know… broad shoulders and everything… I like that in a partner.”

“Please don’t forget about my elite backside, either,” he earnestly reminded me, making me snort.

“Oh I will never _ever_ forget about your elite backside, Al. Wouldn’t _dare_ to, even!” Momentarily, I let go of his shirt to slide my arm down his back and decisively pat his butt like it was a cute little puppy – but then my hand went up again and took hold of his shirt once more. “But this isn’t about your tight buns. It’s about _this_.”

I pulled on the fabric of his ugly shirt.

“You _like_ this shirt, Alastor?” 

He pulled back and grinned from ear to ear. “Well, I do like the _style_ it represents! It’s Victorian – very – well – romantic and such! I thought you would like to see that on me.” 

Oh my _god._ He could have just as well physically _slammed_ me to the ground, because that perky face was enough to instantly _floor_ me. I felt my poor, defenseless heart swell up, thanks to the sudden rush of love and adoration that it was attacked with, and I blushed, coyly plucking at his shirt.

W-well. Maybe it didn’t look _that_ bad…

“You look handsome, Al.” I stood on the tips of my toes and pressed a quick kiss on his broad grin. “It’s very… fluttery!”

He gave me a questioning look. “Is… that a good thing?”

“Oh Al, you can’t ever be _too_ fluttery!”

That was too much. And yes, Al had heard the slightly sarcastic tone as well and squinted his eyes at me, the corners of his mouth losing their sharp edges. 

“You hate it, don't you.”

I struggled to keep a straight face, stumbling over my words . “N-no! No, I don't _hate_ it… It’s nice enough, Al!”

“…’nice enough’?”

“Y-yeah! Yeah…”

“Oh my goodness – you absolutely _detest_ it,” he concluded in a low voice, as he started to take big and relentless steps forwards and forced me to walk backwards. “You little lying _tease_.” 

I giggled helplessly and willingly let him back me into a corner of the ballroom, where he planted his hands against the walls. I had nowhere to run, but that was okay: I wasn’t planning on going anywhere anyway. Truth be told, that oversized shirt looked a _lot_ hotter on him now that he was holding his arms up like that, looking a bit sweaty and looming over me with that huge, eternal smile of his. 

“Okay,” I admitted as he approached my hot, flustered face with his, “so maybe it’s a bit hideous.”

Al’s jaw dropped at that and his radio audience was laughing _so_ hard in the background, they’d be literally rolling over the floor had they been – you know, _real._ Alastor chuckled soon after as well, though, and squashed me further into the corner.

“You’re a mischievous one, my dear,” he said, his face and mouth now just a breath away from mine. “But you’re right, it’s a _horrid_ thing, and thank _god_ you don’t like this dreadful shirt – you have no idea what a pain it was to get it on. I don’t even know if I’m wearing it correctly. Look at all this _fabric._ The _frills._ It’s like I’m drowning in cloths!”

“At least your butt looks nice,” I tried to cheer him up.

He stared at me, dumbfounded. “Yes. At least my butt looks nice.”

“Maybe I should cop a quick fee—”

“Maybe you should shut up, Charlie.” 

He groaned, took hold of both of my wrists and pinned them to the wall above my head, before finally closing the distance between our lips. It took him a few kisses to stop my chuckling, but I eventually stopped and gave in to him. Feeling hot and needy, I eagerly kissed him back, opening my mouth and shivering with pleasure when I sensed his tongue lazily brushing against mine, deepening the slow kiss that was going on.

As he loosened his hold on my wrists and let me collect his face in my hands, leaning closer to me and never separating our lips, I found myself thinking that, all in all, this was a very satisfying ending to a very satisfying afternoon.

  
**CcC**

  
It wasn’t just that afternoon that was satisfying for me, though. 

For some reason, the rest of the week that followed up this incredibly nice Sunday was very enjoyable as well.

Maybe… _too_ enjoyable? 

I usually had loads and _loads_ of things to do during the week. It kind of came with the job, you know: being a manager, a therapist, a princess and the legal owner of a hotel, all at the same time… it meant I just never was totally _done_ with my work. There was always some mail that needed to get answered, multiple bills that needed to get paid (somehow), problems and complaints of tenants I had to deal with, broken furniture or malfunctioning televisions and PC’s that I had to find the right handymen for, slumbering management troubles that waited for me to sort them out, cool events that had to be organized, meals that needed to get prepared each and every day, a loyal, yet not-always-that-proactive staff that was waiting (or _not_ waiting) for my careful instructions… 

Let’s just say there were a number of _very good reasons_ why I hadn’t been against Alastor taking over my tasks on Sunday. 

Monday to Saturday were still mine to handle – and that was okay! I mean, of course! I knew how heavy the workload would be _way_ before I actually started this rehabilitation hotel, so don’t worry – you wouldn’t hear me complain, ever! Besides, I had Vaggie, Alastor, Husk, Niffty and sometimes even Angel Dust at my side, ready to help me out when the going got tough. Things were good enough as they were right now and I could deal with it, easy peasy!

But when I came into my and Vaggie’s little office on Monday, I discovered, much to my surprise, that most of the urgent matters were already dealt with.

And that same revelation came when I tried to get some work done on Tuesday: there simply wasn’t all that much left for me to do.

Wednesday was a little bit busier, perhaps, and I hadn’t seen Alastor all that much the past couple of days - but Vaggie was there to help me out, and then there was Angel Dust to help _her_ out. He… had become _very_ helpful, now that I think about it. But only when Vag was around and only if _she_ asked. 

Huh… 

I mean, I knew both Vaggie and Angel Dust were gay, so I wasn’t trying to jump to any silly conclusions here, but… well, I found it pretty… _peculiar,_ that the two of them all of a sudden were hanging around each other as much as they did. I supported it, though! The new situation had a good effect on Vaggie, who had become a bit less grumpy – which was nice! So whatever it was that was going on, I didn’t mind it – and maybe I was even secretly feeling very _relieved_ about it.

But anyway!

On Thursday and Friday, there wasn’t much to do, either – and then, on a Friday afternoon, when I was absentmindedly watering some plants around the hotel, it finally clicked that maybe, just maybe, my sudden increase in free time and my less-stressful schedule was all thanks to Alastor and his crazy promises. After all, he was doing all kinds of stuff behind the scenes. 

Like cheering me up, dancing with me, preparing me for my parents’ gala…

Wait a minute.

_“…I also realize you’re a very diligent worker. And incredibly stubborn in your ways. However – let me have this. **Let me take care of you** , my beautiful princess.”_

Wait a _darn_ minute. 

I blinked as I recalled the words Alastor had nonchalantly told me about a week ago. Seemingly random, yet loving words. They were very nice and kind and of course, me and my easily-charmed ass had told him to yes, please take care of me.

But was all of _this_ what I had unconsciously agreed to?

I hadn’t meant to agree to him just doing _everything_!

Oh my god, was he doing _everything_ now? 

Why the hell was he doing _everything_?

I mean, yeah, I knew Al was powerful and mighty, but he wasn’t a damn miracle worker! 

Oh god, it _did_ explain why I hadn’t seen him all that much the past couple of days, apart from the bedroom and the library: Alastor was constantly doing things behind my back to lower my workload!

I felt my heart drop and put the watering can down on the window sill, my hands quivering. This was going too far – this was too much. I had to stop him, before he’d get a freaking burn-out! I had to—

_“…will you let me try and make that promise I made to you come true? Will you trust my word and allow the both of us to go visit your parents’ party and enjoy it to our fullest, my darling love?”_

The party.

It was just this week, until the party.

I calmed down a little.

If I remembered (and understood) Al’s words correctly, Alastor was working so hard in order to get me all relaxed, happy and well-rested: it would be the _perfect_ mood for me to attend my parents’ party this weekend. So that basically meant that going against him – as in, looking him up and _begging_ him to _please_ stop overworking himself – would be the same as telling him I didn’t trust him enough.

He wouldn’t like that. Maybe it’d even hurt him a bit. I didn’t want to hurt him.

Okay.

Okay – _focus,_ Charlie. 

Today, it was Friday. My parents’ stupid gala was tomorrow evening, so Al would probably stop taking tasks out of my hand after… Sunday. I didn’t have much choice but to accept that, since I had unwittingly agreed to it in the first place. I couldn’t mess things up now.

…but that meant Alastor himself _could_.

I felt my forehead wrinkling as I stood there, near that window sill, rubbing my chin and clacking my tongue… and then I made a decision.

“Jesus, you’re glaring at that poor flower like it personally insulted you,” I heard a familiar voice speak up all of a sudden and I looked around. Vaggie stood right behind me, one of her eyebrows cocked up and both of her arms folded together. It was a defensive stance, but there was an easy smile on her face. 

“What’s the matter, hun?” she asked.

A happy jolt shot through my body. Vaggie had recently started calling me by her former petname for me again – and since it didn’t hold the same energy as it used to have, it was a nice thing to hear. A little bit of evidence that things had finally, _finally_ become normal between the two of us again. Was that also because of…?

Ah, well – I’d think about that later!

“Vag!” I exclaimed, beaming a big grin at her. “Just the person I wanted to see! I need to speak to you! To – discuss something with you! Do you have a minute?”

Vaggie brushed some of her dark hair – it really was just as pretty as her former white hair, if you asked me – out of her face and tilted her head a bit, trying to hide her curiosity but not completely succeeding in doing just that.

“Uh… sure, I guess? How can I help you?”

And so, I told her.

  
**CcC**

  
Usually, whenever I went to bed late on a normal weekday, Alastor would already be in bed. He’d be reading something light, patiently waiting for me to eventually go to bed as well, and I always was happy to see he had stayed up for me. I had told him many times before he could just go to sleep, really (I mean, he didn’t _have_ to stay up for me, since he was a horrible sleeper to begin with), but Al presumably didn’t pay my words any mind and kept waiting for me to join him in bed anyway. 

This week had been a bit different though, since these days, it had been _Al_ that showed up in the bedroom later than expected. 

Naturally, I had tried to, like him, stay up and wait for him… but _unlike_ Alastor, I didn’t suffer from insomnia or other sleep-related problems – and because this week had been relatively chill, stress-free and even moderately _boring_ for me, drifting off had been too tempting for me to fight against. So yeah, despite my many brave efforts, I had eventually ended up gracing Al with the very pretty sight of his lover, all rolled up in her own hair and blankets and snoring away in bed, _every freaking evening_ of this week.

Girlfriend of the year right here.

But not _this_ evening! This evening, I was prepared. I had a _plan,_ after all!

  
**CcC**

  
I wish I could say it was a piece of cake to keep myself awake long enough for Alastor to come to bed _without_ me needing to practically inject coffee into my veins, but nope – it was _hard._ Seriously, I had even cleverly decided to read a creepy thriller novel in bed to keep me up, but to no avail. No matter how creepy the bad guy in that story was, in the end, my bed was just too _soft_ and _warm_ and _plush_ to resist – and by the time I hoped Al would come to bed, I had almost nodded off at least _three times_ already.

Fourth time could be the charm, so after that third time, I sat up some more, crudely slapped my cheeks to wake me up some more and – for a moment – seriously contemplated that coffee-injection plan, when Al, _thankfully,_ opened the door and entered the bedroom.

“Hi Al,” I cheerfully greeted him right off the bat, not even giving him time to decently register me. When he did, however, he was perplexed to see me awake. 

“Charlie?” he started, walking up to the bed and slipping out of his red coat. “Why aren’t you sleeping, my dear? It’s well past midnight!”

“I wanted to stay up and wait for you,” I explained.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I just wanted to wait for you.”

“Oh, well, that’s – very sweet of you, but you shouldn’t have bothered! I don’t mind coming into your bedroom and seeing your peaceful, slumbering figure warming up the bed. Waiting for mine to join it.” He smiled as he began to unbutton his dress shirt as well. “It’s a rather comforting sight, truth be told.”

“I know you don’t mind.” I pushed some of my hair behind my ear. “But I just… wanted to stay up this time. You know, since you _always_ stay up for me.”

“You _do_ realize that’s mostly because I have the most horrible difficulties with falling asleep, don’t you?” Alastor said with a curt laugh, padding off into the bathroom. “I don’t want to be a spoilsport, but if I could fall asleep like any normal person could, I’d most likely be fast asleep every night, instead of waiting for you!” 

“Would you?” I listened to him rummaging in the other room, as I fidgeted with the sheets. “I don’t know about that. I think you would wait for me either way.”

Alastor didn’t give a response to that and after a little while, he re-emerged into the bedroom, clad in his nightwear. I observed him carefully as he approached the bed and took care of the lights on the nightstands and stuff. Yeah – as I had expected, he looked pretty _drained._ It apparently didn’t matter he had been working so hard this week, his stubborn body still just wouldn’t grant him one easy night’s sleep. 

The room got dark and the mattress dipped when Al got into bed at last. I laid down as well and looked into the big, black nothingness above me, waiting for him to get comfortable. The second I heard him breathe out tiredly, I could almost _hear_ him dread the rest of the night – and I immediately felt the need to comfort him, somehow. So I slipped one of my hands underneath the covers, searching for his.

I didn’t have to examine the bed for very long: turns out his hand was looking for mine as well, and barely had mine made a faint contact with his, or Al made sure to instantaneously envelop my fingers with his own, pointy digits. He clumsily tried to lock our fingers together, but he missed a few of mine in the swift action. It didn’t matter too much for him: he didn’t attempt to grip my hand better, but simply lightly grazed the tips of his fingers over my skin.

“I appreciate it though,” I heard him say after a few moments of serene nothing at all, “that you stayed awake for me.”

“It’s the least I could do.” I turned my face into his direction. “After everything that you have done for me, this week.”

A dry, short laugh. “Ha! You make it sound like what I did was all that impressive!”

“For _me_ it was.” I scooted closer to him until I was face to face with him, letting go of his hand. “And I should reward you for that.”

Although it was pitch-black in the bedroom, Alastor’s left, red eye emitted a weak light. It did that sometimes, especially when he was caught off guard – like right now. I could tell he was thinking about something to say to that, but before he could, I curled myself up against him, put my hand on the back of his neck, gently slid it upwards, to the back of his head, and connected our lips with a silent, yet insistent push.

Alastor made a surprised noise that immediately died in the back of his throat and he froze up for a bit, before replying to my kiss and winding his arms around my upper body. It was a delicate, tender kiss – nothing like the wet ones we exchanged in the ballroom last week. It was a kiss that told me he was at his most _vulnerable_ state of mind right now – a position he very rarely allowed himself to be in, nor allowed others to notice he was in. 

But here, in my arms, in-between the soothing sheets of my bed and in the safety of the calm darkness, he carefully lowered his walls.

I wondered how many of those he had. I wondered how many of those I had yet to break down and conquer. I wondered if he’d let me.

Softly, I pushed Al back on his back and climbed on top of him, not yet pulling away from his lips. Underneath me, I could feel a minor hint of unease as Alastor’s hands took hold of my hips, which were straddling him – but he didn’t know quite what to do with them.

“Charlie,” he said in a somewhat throaty voice, when I finally ended the kiss, “I – apologize, sweetheart, but I don’t feel like making love with you right now.”

“Neither do I,” I quickly reassured him, “and that wasn’t what I meant when I said I wanted to reward you. It doesn’t have anything to do with sex.”

“Ah.” I could feel the tenseness in his muscles ease down right away and his hands loosened up a little. “Alright. In that case… what _do_ you want to reward me with?”

“Well,” I mumbled, putting my hands on his shoulders, “I don’t really want to tell you. That would kind of spoil it. I... think it’s better if you’d just… trust me and _let_ me.”

Alastor in- and exhaled unhurriedly, but I sensed his brain was trying its hardest to wrap itself around my proposition and find a logical and good answer to it. In this moment of strained quietness, his hands let go of my hips altogether and moved further up, drawing circular and triangular figures on my back.

“Will I like this reward you’re speaking of?”

“Yes.”

“A lot?”

“I think so, yes.”

“It sounds like a surprise.” He let out a frustrated moan. “And I don’t like surprises. Because I don’t know what is coming. What to expect.”

“Just trust me, Al.” I gave a squeeze to his shoulders. “Do you trust me?”

He stared at me in complete silence. Yet _another_ silence – a long one, this time. Had I been younger and less familiar with – well, _him,_ I could have seen this awkward reaction as an insult, as something hurtful: why was he so hesitant to trust me while he himself _did_ expect _me_ to trust _him_ right away, the second he suggested something? Unfair! Heresy! Kick him out of the bed! 

Right?

But I kept quiet and waited patiently, not wanting to force anything.

At last, Alastor gave me a very small nod.

“Very well – since you trusted me, I’ll trust you. It’s only fair.”

“I-it is,” I agreed, feeling my heart soar in my chest in relief, and looked down on him with a grateful little smile. My hair fell off my shoulders, partly into his face, and I giggled as I wiped my locks away from his features. He smiled as well, albeit a bit anxiously. His inhumane, claw-shaped hands travelled further up my back, then went down my shoulders, until they rested on my lower arms. 

“Just relax, Al. Okay?”

“I will try.”

Well that sounded more promising than I had expected, really. 

Carefully and very slowly, I leaned closer to him, tried to ignore those _huge_ eyes that cautiously kept track of what I did, and rekindled the sweet passion of the earlier kiss by brushing my lips against his once more. I took his face in my hands, pulling back a little – then kissing him again. The first couple of kisses all landed on his mouth, the ones after these sneakily wandered off to his cheeks, his jawline, his forehead and even his eyes, as his half-opened eyelids had finally started to close themselves completely. As I felt him sigh and gradually give in to my affectionate touches more and more, I continued placing feather-light kisses on his face. I even dared to move down and peck a few on his throat and in his neck, where his scars began to take shape… but I never went lower than that. Like this, I placed butterfly smooches all over him, at a certain point mumbling in-between hushed kisses just how much I loved what he had been doing for me. And lots – _lots_ – more.

Gently though – _extremely_ gently, it was important I didn’t move too fast.

“This week,” I breathed against his mouth, while he dug his sharp fingers into the skin of my arms, like he was bracing himself, “you made me feel so special and so important, Al – so _loved_ and _appreciated_ – it… it’s been a while since the last time somebody has made me feel this _good._ Thank you. _Thank you._ You have no idea how much I crave for this kind of romantic affection – I didn’t even realize it _myself._ I love you – I love you so much, Al, and now it’s my turn to tell you what exactly I love about _mwnm_ —”

Alastor all of a sudden raised his face and screwed our lips together again. I automatically kissed him back, relishing into the sincerity of his abrupt reply. However, his nails were still boring themselves into my arms, as if he was unable to contain himself, as if he couldn’t _stand_ his own impulses. I vaguely wondered if he held some sort of _frustration_ within him – but that was wiped off my mind as soon as I reminded myself that this reaction of his was proof that I was not done yet.

Somehow, I managed to pry both of his hands off me, clasped them tightly and calmly pushed them down, next to his face. For a minute, it seemed like he wanted to struggle, for whatever reason that could be – but he didn’t, probably because he was just too overtaxed, and he simply looked at me, his expression obscured by my hair.

“I love your stupid puns,” I wheezed, blowing my bangs out of my eyes, “and I love your zany characteristics and manners. I love the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you dance. _God_ I love the way you dance. I love your smiles – all of them, even the hysterical ones, the dark ones, the fake ones. I love those weird tufts of hair of yours. I love your thin, pointy, impossible body, and how it slots together with mine. I love your grotesque hands. I love your _insane_ determination, how… how nothing – and I mean _nothing_ – stops you from reaching your goal. _Whatever_ goal that is.”

Alastor may have been too fatigued to react verbally, but his hands solidly gripped mine. Again, I felt his nails pricking into my skin unforgivingly _hard._ This time, he even drew blood – it trickled down my hand. I bit my lower lip and paid it no mind. 

“I-I love the way you look at me when you think I don’t know you’re looking at me,” I carried on with a cracked voice, “and I love how you refuse to look away, even when you realize I _know_ you are looking at me. I love your radio audience, even though I don’t even know just… what or who they are, or know how many guys are actually _in_ there.”

“Fifty,” Alastor managed, unexpectedly. “My – audience consists of fifty invisible, possibly imaginative people and they all – they all _adore_ you. They always pick your side.”

“ _Fifty_?! God, I – do they actually have _names_?”

“My dear, some of them even have _pets_.”

I laughed, happy with his cute little remark and the look on his face, and promptly pressed another kiss on his smile.

“I love that about you as well,” I whispered right after. “How you fill my heart up with your humor and your honest compliments, with your chaotic, helpless affection for me, with everything you do to try and make me feel good. How you _accept_ and _see me_ as the person I am. How you encourage me. Help me. _Love_ me. Thank you, my darling – thank you so much for that.”

Alastor watched me with glassy eyes and wanted to stammer something – but again allowed his words to get swallowed up when I captured his now raw-kissed lips yet again. He let it all happen and rain down on him with a resigned, blissful smile. 

Ultimately, his movements got slower, his vice-like grip lost its hurtful hold and I could tell – _feel_ – the overload of praises, cuddles and kisses, _and_ his eventual acceptance of them, were slowly but surely soothing Alastor enough to lull him to sleep.

That’s right.

 _That_ had been my plan all along.

 _Praising, kissing_ and _hugging_ the man to sleep.

It had been – a _crazy_ plan, I know. Still, I drowsily came to the conclusion it had actually _worked_ when Alastor, almost _desperately,_ pulled my (now just as worn-out) body against his and cut my stream of compliments off with a lingering, last kiss. While my eyes shut themselves and I let go of his hands, he wrapped his arms around me and pushed my face into his neck. He smelled nice, warm, like a downpour on a drowsy afternoon in Summer, and it quietened me instantly.

No more words were spoken – and much to my delight, I felt him dozing off literally two seconds later. The way his body and limbs suddenly yielded and completely relaxed – it was enough to convince me he really was asleep. The whole lovely ordeal had been pretty tiresome for me, too, and not even a minute later, I was out like a light as well.

And just like I had hoped, we didn’t wake up until it was _way past noon_ the very next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After her mother passes away, Karen gets adopted by a wealthy old lady - and the girl grows up rich and spoiled. Her foster parent one day buys her a set of red shoes. Karen loves the shoes and wants to wear them to church, but the old lady says it’s improper to wear anything but black shoes in church. However, Karen can’t resist them and puts on the shoes anyway. Right before she enters the church, a soldier compliments her on her shoes and taps on them, saying: “Never come off when you dance.” Kind of a dick move, because when Karen later leaves the church, the shoes take over control and make her dance _all day long_.  
> When her adoptive mother dies, Karen can’t even attend to the funeral due to her dancing shoes. An enraged Angel appears before her and curses her, forcing her to dance, even after her death, as a warning to vain children everywhere. Things get even more brutal though: because Karen is unable to stop dancing, she begs an executioner to chop off her feet. He does that (and the shoes keep on dancing _with the amputated feet in them and all_ ) and he gives her a pair of wooden feet and some crutches. Karen then attempts to go to church to ask for forgiveness, but the gruesome red shoes bar the way, every time she tries to enter the church. In the end, the poor girl stays at home and prays for help there… and the Angel reappears, finally forgiving her. Karen’s heart gets so fulfilled that it bursts and she dies.
> 
> A rather hardcore fairytale, made up by Hans Christian Andersen. It was inspired by an incident he saw happening between his father, who was a shoemaker, and a rich lady. Long story short: the rich lady didn’t like the red-leathered shoes he had made for her daughter and said he had wasted her silk. Andersen’s dad replied: “Might as well waste my leather too, then,” and destroyed the shoes right in front of her!


	15. Diana and Actaeon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year since the pilot-episode of Hazbin Hotel aired on YouTube. Many fans and artists have decided to make a lot of lovely art about the show and upload it on their social media accounts, so if you're in need for some awesome fanart, you should definitely check it out!^^
> 
> The chapter in which Al and Charlie will finally get to the wonderful 'Yes-Our-Daughter-Finally-Called-Us'-party Lucifer and Lilith are throwing is slowly but surely approaching us - and [this](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1321286639080120321) is what [Chisena](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt) thinks how our lovely couple will look like. It's close... it's VERY close to what I have in mind, especially Charlie! But you'll see (well, _read_ XDDD) what they will look like! Till that moment - have patience! 8DDDD
> 
> This chapter, a visitor stops by the hotel! How unexpected… or _are_ they?

When I opened my eyes the next day and observed to my utmost amazement that the entire bedroom was illuminated by the hellishly-bright sunlight coming from outside, I swiftly came to the _mind-blowing_ conclusion that I, for the first time in _forever,_ had overslept.

I. Alastor. The ever-so-wary Radio Demon, who barely _ever_ slept a wink and woke up around seven to eight times each and every night, despising the restlessness of my tired body and mind and sometimes even staying up _all night_ because of the relentlessness of my chronic insomnia… 

…had actually _overslept._

Not only _that,_ but I had slept like a _log_ as well. I faintly recalled drifting off to sleep to the sweet tones of Charlie’s enchanting voice. I was locked firmly into her embrace, not being able to do _anything_ but permitting my darling princess to put me to sleep in her own charming ways – and that was it. That was all I could remember before falling asleep.

I hadn’t woken up _once_ and I hadn’t have any nightmares, either.

I had simply _slept._ Like a _person._ A _normal_ one. 

Oh my good _lord_! 

How long had I even slept? It was already daytime outside! This wasn’t what I had in mind for this day! I was supposed to get up early and prepare myself and Charlie for what was going to come – not sleep in late and linger around in bed! 

Almost having a minor panic attack and yet still moving as few limbs as possible (since Charlie was still resting her lovely head on my chest and looked so peaceful and comfortable, all snuggled up against me like that), I snatched Charlie’s little telephone device off the nightstand and took a gander at it.

It was noon. _Later_ than that, even: normally, me and Charlie would already be enjoying our break time in the library around this time. 

I then realized I had a straight _twelve-hours of sleep._

Well, I… well. That was quite something! 

Letting out a weak chuckle, I put the phone back and sighed, closing my eyes again and forcing my swirling mind to calm down. I had once read somewhere that cuddling something cute and adorable helped reducing your stress levels, so I awkwardly started to pet Charlie’s blonde hair, that was blithely curled around me. It helped. But then again – having Charlie nearby almost _always_ had a positive effect on my state of mind.

It was no use to stress out or blow a gasket over sleeping in late at this point. There was nothing that could be done about the current situation, after all – I couldn’t turn back the hands of time and I couldn’t simply _shove_ Charlie off of me and make a beeline for the bedroom door to try and get certain things done anyway.

…well alright, I _could_ shove her off, there’s no mistake in _that,_ but that would be terribly impolite. 

So I didn’t.

I settled down some more, resigning myself in my constricted, yet pleasant position. This – actually wasn’t _too_ bad, in all fairness. I felt astonishingly… _refreshed_ and _well-rested_. There were worse things in Hell than harmoniously waking up from a very good night’s sleep in the arms of your slumbering lover, that is a fact. 

As I absentmindedly let my fingers play around with Charlie’s beautiful golden locks of hair, I wondered, though: why had nobody woken us up yet? I remembered Charlie once overslept for a meager half hour – this was _before_ we had become romantically involved with one another and shortly _after_ her and Vaggie’s relationship had ended, by the by – and the poor girl was spending the remainder of the day getting viciously nagged at by (a still heartbroken) Vaggie for her insolence.

Today, however, nothing of the sorts had happened yet. Strange.

Hmm…

My oh my – could it _be_? 

Was I being roped into somebody’s little _scheme_?

Grinning and getting more and more curious and impatient, I stared digging into the blonde heap on my chest, until I felt the contours of Charlie’s soft face underneath my fingertips – and I raised it up, squeezing and poking into her dainty, sleepy, pink cheeks until I could hear her utter some annoyed groans. 

“Ow – _ouch_ – stoppit,” she grumbled, her pretty dark eyes finally opening up and glowering at me. “What _gives,_ Al, I—” 

I was quick to press a kiss on those pouty lips and muffle whatever rightful complain had been trying to get out.

Charlie was about as weak as I was when it came down to being overwhelmed by sudden affection – and yes, this time as well, she instantly gave in to my kiss and softened over her entire body. As I wrapped her up in my arms, I made sure to caress her aching cheeks, too, and by the time I felt her chuckle a bit, I knew I could pull back and – well, actually wish her a good morning. 

“Yeah – good morning, Al…” Charlie smiled endearingly at me with half-closed eyes, yawned and sat up on my lap some more. A bit confused and out of it, she wiped her mouth and looked around the room. I kept a careful eye on her as she did so and noticed – literally _noticed_ ¬– Charlie reminding herself about something, as her eyes grew bigger in realization. She also seemed to be awfully _pleased_ with herself.

She snapped her face back to me and tried to keep her tone neutral and nonchalant as she asked me what time it was.

“It’s almost one in the afternoon,” I told her, letting my hands rest on the curves of her thighs.

She pretended to be amazed, even faking a little gasp and raising a hand to her face. “Oh wow, looks like we overslept!”

I cast my eyes upwards. “Oh no! Whatever shall we do?”

She wanted to answer me, but changed her mind before actually speaking up. Charlie might not have been the best liar, she _was_ quick to spot sarcasm when it was thrown at her – and she locked her eyes with mine, falling quiet for a little while as she came to the unnerving, yet not surprising conclusion that I _knew._

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it,” I gently remarked. “Making me oversleep.”

Her whole face bloomed most graciously as Charlie exhaled in puffs and kept staring at me, busted and speechless. In the end, she gave me a little nod, though, and wrung her hands together. I then spotted some wounds on her hands’ fair skin and felt a small flash of concern shooting through me.

Not saying anything either, I sat up some more as well and took her delicate little hands in mine, studying the – fortunately not too deep – marks my nails had left in them the other night. I didn’t know where Charlie’s adorable little first-aid-kit was, so I snapped in my fingers and simply let a wet piece of cloth magically take form.

“I – yesterday, I asked Vaggie to please take care of the hotel for today,” Charlie easily confessed, wincing as I tended to her wounds. “Because I – _ow_ – wanted you to sleep in – and because you probably wouldn’t be able to sleep in at _all,_ unless I'd be here to hold and monitor you.”

“Hm-hm,” I hummed, wiping away the partly-faded trail of blood on her skin. “That _does_ explain your rather eccentric, yet still indubitably _delightful_ ploy last night, to get me to sleep.” 

“I wanted to soothe your thoughts, Al.”

She stunned me for a second by pressing a sudden kiss to my forehead. She aimed for the cross there – she _always_ aimed for the cross.

“I – well.” I made the cloth disappear and looked up at her, observing the slight frown marring her attractive face. “You – didn’t have to, my dear. I understand why you‘d think my thoughts needed to get soothed, but you didn’t have to go _that_ far.”

Charlie’s frown deepened and she rolled her eyes skeptically at me. “Yyyeah... hey – when did you wake up again?”

“Just a couple of minutes before you did.”

“That means you slept for _twelve hours_ , Al.”  
  
“It does mean just that. So?”

“So you _needed_ it. The soothing. The sleep. The… peace of mind. You _craved_ for it.”

Effectively hushed, I looked at her, feeling both called out and a bit lost.

“That’s okay.” Charlie smiled and wrapped her arms around my neck. I felt her legs rounded themselves around my lower body as well, pulling us flush together and making me stir. “I’m happy you needed it, since it gave me the chance to successfully execute my plan. After all, people sleep a whole lot better once there aren’t nagging worries and problems keeping their head occupied. Maybe I didn’t exactly solve your problems – but I _did_ knock out your busy brain.”

I laughed. I sounded a lot more timid than I had thought - or wanted to sound. “ _That_ you did, my love – that you did.”

Charlie looked like she wanted to say something more and moved closer, but then a sudden jolt ran up both her as well as my own spine, as she slid over my…

Ahem.

_Nocturnal penile tumescence._

Look it up.

Charlie blinked as she stared down at – _that,_ for a couple of seconds. Then she slowly raised her head again and gave me a sly, seductive smile.

“Oh. _Oh._ Okay Al – you seem to be very _energetic_ this morning… why is that?”

“Ah, talking about my reproductive organ, I see.” I smirked and snaked my hands down her warm shape, until I paused their movements in the small of her back. “Do you want the scientific explanation for my ‘energy’ this morning or the _sultry_ one?”

Charlie liked that question, I noted. She bit her lower lip, already more than ready for what was going to happen. 

“T-the sultry one, please.” 

“Are you sure?” My hands disappeared into her – _awfully_ small, dear _god,_ it was basically _hypothetical_ – underwear, making Charlie quiver and sigh heatedly as I cupped her bottom. “The sultry explanation doesn’t come with _words,_ though…”

It… also wasn’t much of an explanation at all, but who cared about that at this point?

I didn’t wait for her obvious reply – and she didn’t even let out as much as a shriek when I slithered my hands even further down and, most _expertly,_ flipped her on her back without warning. I climbed on top of her right after.

“I-I don’t mind that it doesn’t come with… words,” Charlie said breathlessly, her cheeks flushed, her eyes two shining orbs of the brightest light as she gazed up at me. “I’ve – I’ve always liked real-life demonstrations way better anyway.”

That made me squawk a bit – it was quite amusing how Charlie always flawlessly went along with whatever silly metaphor I had cooked up and she seemed to find them genuinely funny, too. Now as well, as she was lying underneath me, on the softness of her bed, with her long, mesmerizing sun-soaked hair fanned out proudly around her head. Her lacy nightgown wrinkled up all the way to her breasts. There was a giddy smile playing around her lips – and she happily answered the kiss I attacked her oh so sweet mouth with.

“What would you like,” I wanted to know, hovering above her (while Charlie wound an impatient leg around my hips and almost made me _crash down_ back on top of her), “do you need me to ravish you down there with my mouth or would you rather have something _vaster_ inside of your ridiculously exquisite body, my love?”

“Both,” Charlie wheezed.

I grinned and clicked my tongue. “My, aren’t we _greedy_ today.”

“That’s what you get for being gallant and asking me what I want, Al.” Charlie’s lush voice was thick with _want_ and _thirst_ and yet, it sounded also so _tender_ at the same time. She rolled her still clothed, yet already fairly moist abdomen lewdly up against my crotch, making my arms holding me up tremble dangerously. “I want it _all_.”

Resolutely, I ran my hands down her legs and folded both of them around me. I lowered myself on her completely, pressing her into the white, wooly bedsheets below her. “Then you’ll get it all, my darling Charlie.”

She laughed softly, entranced, and gripped at my nightwear. The charming sweetheart then closed her eyes when I put my mouth on hers again and she helpfully held up her arms while I – painstakingly _careful_ – started peeling her thin nightgown off of her. 

It felt right: Charlie felt right, this position felt right, my body felt right – everything felt right, all was ready to take this further, and _yet,_ there _still_ was something that _didn’t_ feel right about this. Something located a little further _away_ from the two of us. Something… 

_**…perverse.** _

I’m not entirely sure why or how I was able to, but I found myself tearing my eyes away from my delicious Charlie’s writhing figure for a second, only to meet _multiple_ eyes in _multiple_ colors looking back at me from the (now suddenly opened?!) bedroom door, while their owner grinned his disgusting, broad, slightly nervous mouth as wide as he was able to. 

“Uh… hiya, smiles!” Angel Dust sounded a bit shrill. “IIIIII see that you’re about to pound some angelic monster fawns into the princess, soooooo I better come back later and leave ya at it, heheh…”

He winked at me, then gently closed the door again.  
  


…  
  


…  
  


Needless to say, **_that spider-abomination was a goner._**

  
**DdD**

  
Yeah yeah, I get it, I get it: I probably should’ve known, right? 

I should’ve known _better_ than to just walk up to Charlie’s bedroom door and chuck it open, looking _straight_ at the bed, like the hot _daredevil_ I am, and _not_ expecting some sort of cursed killer-deer-on-demonic-angel-girl-action going on in there.

But hey! _HEY_! In my defense…

I’m a fucking moron. 

I rest my case. 

But yeah, I could tell Alastor wasn’t really _happy_ with seeing my mug at the door as he was busy untangling the princess from her skanky little babydoll-thingy (fucking hilarious how the red bastard was actually _struggling_ with it and apparently found the nightgown too nice to just shred it apart with those creepy crab-hands of his, heh), so it was a good decision of mine to softly close the door again.

 _There_ we go.

For a few seconds, nothing happened after that… and as those few seconds ticked by, I suspected Alastor had either fainted from the sheer shock of almost getting catch in the sexy act, or that he had just frozen up completely, becoming a virgin-popsicle (‘cause deflowered or not, that smiling freakshow will never lose _all_ of his virginity, no matter how many times he bones Charlie).

But just when I thought I would live to see another stinking day in Hell, I heard something… _rumbling_ from the other side of the door. Then, I heard something… _buzzing._ Like a _fire_ was crackling. And after that, something suddenly hit the other side of the door with a nauseating _smack_ and _thud_ – and I instantly turned even whiter than I already was, grabbed the doorknob tightly and _Jesus fucking Christ he’s trying to open it oh my fucking god keep the door shut keep the door shut **keep the fucking door shut!**_

“ _Charlieeeeeee_!” I screeched from the top of my lungs, holding on the doorknob for dear life as Alastor now _loudly_ tried to _**fucking claw** himself through the damn door **holy shitballs**_ , “Charlie – for _Christ’s sake_ woman, _put yer boobs back in the net and keep yer fuckin’ furry Romeo in check_ , before he _fuckin’ kills me dead_!”

More unsettling stumbling on the other side of the door, more unholy radio noises that almost fucking _pierced_ my eardrums and a new sound – the sound of Charlie’s high-pitched, panicky jabbering, as she – presumably – pried Alastor off the door and dragged him away from it. 

As I kept on holding on to the door (wasn’t taking any chances here) and anxiously listened to the hushed talking and hissing in the room behind it, I recovered my breath. I felt my blood run cold when I looked at the door up close and saw long slits and cracks in it already. Holy fucking _shit,_ that asshole would’ve fucking _sliced me to pieces_ if Charlie hadn’t used her magical Charlie-powers on him! I should have known that that _before_ barging in! And yet I _didn’t_! 

_God_ I was an even bigger fucking moron than I _thought_!

On the other hand, would I, with my voyeuristic interests and living-on-the-edge-way of life and all that, have opened the bedroom door in the first place, had I known that it was _only_ Alastor or Charlie in there, with like _zero_ chances of seeing some erotic, yet wholesome intimacy?

Tricky one.

I would’ve loved to think about this interesting little dilemma for a bit longer – but then the talking on the other side of the room was put to an end and I nearly fell face-first onto the floor when the wooden entrance to Charlie’s bedroom was abruptly opened. I managed to maintain my balance at the very last second though, and stared right into the apologetic face of Charlie.

“H-hello Angel!” she grinned, pulling up the band of her nightgown. “How are you doing this – this fine day?”

“Better _now_ ,” I commented, as I peeked over her shoulder and quickly did an one-over on the bedroom. No Alastor in sight – I guess she had pushed him into the adjunct bathroom.

Charlie gave me a fearful look. “Oh god – he didn’t hurt you, did he? Was I too late?”

I weakly hand-waved her concern away. “Nahh, no worries, toots, ya got him before he could get _me._ And – uh, yea, I guess I was the one in the wrong here. I shouldn’t’ve opened the door while knowing you two could be goin’ at it.”

Charlie forced out an embarrassed laugh and took hold of her bangs of hair, fidgeting with them. Not really my thing – but I had to admit it _was_ kind of cute to see once again that the experienced, promiscuous Princess of Hell was such a fucking _prude_ outside of the bedroom (or at least _partially_ outside of it, in this case). She and that sexually-awkward deer-asshole made a fine couple of old maids, they did.

“So anyway… did you need us? Or me? Or Al?” Charlie then urgently asked me.

“Just Al, actually,” I replied. “There’s this posh lady for him waiting downstairs. She’s been here for a lil’ while now and though both she and Vags kept tellin’ me to not disturb the two of ya, this gal’s givin’ me the heebie-jeebies – so I figured I should just come up and fetch him anyway.”

“A lady? For _Al_?” Charlie gave me a perplexed stare. The strap of her nightgown was starting to slip off her shoulder again. I faintly wondered what that would look like if I was wearing something like that. Or Vaggie. 

Before my thoughts could get off-track any further, I snorted. “Whoa. Are ya _that_ amazed that there’s another dame in his life, huh?”

As to be expected from her, Charlie recollected herself pretty quickly and furrowed her brows at me. “Actually, I happen to _know_ that Al has two friends in his life that are women. I just – didn’t expect any of them here today. Or… well, any day, really.”

“Oh really?” I watched the strap fall down Charlie’s shoulder all the way, almost revealing part of the now distracted princess’ impressive knockers. Honka-donk- _donk_. “Well she’s still here, blondie. And I think she’s here on Al’s ord—”

“Yes!” Alastor popped up behind Charlie all of a sudden, all happy and peppy and not-murderous at all, nearly giving me a _goddamn stroke_ , “please allow me to thank you for your _very_ helpful information, my lurking, treacherous friend – I think I’ll take it over from here!”

I glared at him and wanted to snarl something at the Radio Asswipe, since he was being such a scary _fuckface_ – but that smiling, overbearing face of his was just too off-putting, and I ended up remaining silent. He cackled nonsensically and didn’t lose eye-contact with me as he put one of his dagger-like claws on Charlie’s pale shoulder and used one of his other fingers to smoothly, yet _slooowly_ pull Charlie’s loose strap back up. 

Like he was mocking me for actually being able to do that with _his_ love interest.

“Was that all?” he wanted to know.

“Uh. Yea,” I said, finally looking away from the little gesture. “Sooo… what should I say to yer ladyfriend down in the lobby?”

“Tell her that we will be down in a second. My lovely Charlie and I need to get dressed, after all – don’t we, my dear?” Not waiting for an answer, Alastor swiftly pushed Charlie back into the room, reached for the doorknob and gave me one last, patronizing look. “Now – **_get out of my sight, you peeping scumbag, before I release my black tentacles and choke the life out of you._** ”

Now that was _almost_ threatening. I snickered, raised an eyebrow handsomely and wanted to tell him how _bold_ it was of him to assume I’d _mind_ his kinky black tentacles choking me – but the good ol’ strawberry pimp had slammed the bedroom door shut before any slutty remarks could be spoken out.

Eh, whatever.

I shrugged, spun around and made my way back to the entrance hall downstairs, my aloof smile rapidly fading from my face as the image of a sulky, yet bashful Vaggie, pulling on the hem of an adorable little babydoll, was quietly stuck somewhere in the back of my mind. 

It was in a place I usually didn’t reserve for such gooey, _female_ imagery.

Yet here we are.

Here we fucking are. 

  
**AaA**

  
Sometimes, I simply forgot about the fact that Charlie had been extremely unlucky in many of her past relationships. And that she had _more_ than enough reasons to doubt her current romantic partner, based on the painful memories that had remained with her after the heartache had been over. 

Even if this person was an asexual being that had never even _thought_ about romantic love, before meeting her.

According to the scarce information she had (begrudgingly) shared with me over the past few months, quite a few of Charlie’s former partners had been – pardon my French – gigantic, cheating, unfaithful _bastards._ Since she was a woman who felt attracted to both males and females, one would think she had more than enough opportunities to find someone suitable for her over the years – but the fact that she had ended up with _me_ after experiencing so many failed, miserable relationships over decades, maybe even _centuries…_  
  
Well, it showed that the girl wasn’t blessed with the best judgment of _character,_ let me put it at that. Ha ha!

She was aware of this, however. She _knew_ her taste in romantic partners was… questionable at _best,_ most of the time. Goodness, I daresay that Vaggie probably had been the _healthiest,_ most _decent_ lover of all – but look at what that had brought to the two of them: burning heartaches, unsaid frustrations and – may I say it? – cold, hard _boredom._

Charlie liked having a companion that _challenged_ her, that kept her alert, that demanded her full attention. She probably longed for some simple intimacy as well – but why settle for just intimacy if you could have both that _and_ some thrilling excitement?  
  
I liked to think she had found that with me. I was more than happy to offer her _both._ I’d give her all the love I could find within my corrupted, yet not uncaring heart, I’d give her all the intimacy I was able to share with her, I’d amuse her as much as she’d like me to. All of this – it was no problem for me.

But those former, bordering on _traumatic_ relationships of hers… it had made Charlie cautious of possible rivals in love. After all, it had happened before – lovers _had_ been stolen or walked away from her before, so why should she think things would be different with _me_? Even if she knew I had never fallen in love _before,_ I eventually _had_ – with _her._ So who was to say I wouldn’t fall in love with _another_ lady that had been in my (after)life for quite some time?

I understood her worry very well.

However, she absolutely needn’t to worry.

For goodness sake, I’d rather drown myself in the nearest fiery lava-pit than to hook up with the likes of _Rosie._ Ha ha ha! Oh no no, I liked and respected myself too much to try and keep up with _that_ wacky broad’s antics!

So as soon as I had shooed Angel Dust off (I’d get back at that disgusting weasel some other time), I made sure to tell Charlie what the exact reason was for Rosie’s visit. In all fairness, I had wanted to tell her about Rosie from the start (in any case _before_ my dear partner-in-crime would show up at the door all of a sudden, as she... eventually ended up doing anyway), but thanks to all the events this morning, I hadn’t been able to tell her sooner.  
  
“She’s part of yet _another_ something special I have prepared for you,” I explained to Charlie, as I slipped my arms into my coat. 

“Something special, you say?” Charlie, who was brushing her hair and looked at me via the mirror, gave me a quizzical, mostly neutral look, her face not revealing any other emotions.

In a split second, I saw something flashing over Charlie’s reflection in the mirror. A hint of red, of white, of _fire._

Oh my.

I blinked. I didn’t know what to say to such a face and to such a brief, yet intense reaction, so I simply stood still and calmly watched her, putting my arms on my back.

At last, Charlie seemed to notice my unease and quickly cracked an apologizing smile. “Oh – I’m sorry, Al. To – be like this. To _react_ like this. That’s very unfair of me to do, especially since I have no reason at all to be suspicious of your friendship with this Rosie.”

I instantly shook my head. “No no, my love, I understand perfectly. I’m also partly to blame: I should have told you as soon as possible, and not wait for… that spider fellow to barge in and tell you instead. But, like I said, she’s part of a surprise – she _made_ it, even.”

“Rosie made something for me?”

“She did! She had also made the clothes we wore last week.”

Finally, unaffected happiness broke through on my lover’s lovely face, and her cheeks colored just that tiny bit redder as she turned away from the mirror, beaming brightly at me.

“O-oh god! That was _Rosie’s_ work? Wow, Al, she really _is_ a great – wait, did she make your awful pirate shirt as well?”

“…no.”

“Oh wow, she really _is_ a great seamstress!”

I rolled my eyes and grinned, relieved to see her mood had improved, and walked to the door of the bedroom. “She most definitely is! She’s – well, she’s a _lot_ of things, in all honesty, but she excels as a seamstress and dressmaker. Why, I bet she’s talented enough to one day even make it as a Royal sewer!”

“A Royal sewer, huh…” 

Opening the door, I had caught the somewhat _lonely_ tone her voice had, when speaking out the sentence. I turned around and saw Charlie standing right behind me, her head lowered, her arms rubbing one another as she muttered something under her breath.

“What’s the matter, my dear?” I put my hands on her upper arms. I thought about lifting her face, as I usually did, but for some reason, I chose to _not_ do that, this time.

“Hey Al – do you think I should… dress more appropriately? Behave more appropriately?” As I expected, Charlie raised her face herself.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well – do you think I should dress and act more like a princess?” Her eyes looked conflicted. “I – um, wonder about that, sometimes.”

I tilted my head. “Sweetheart – you _are_ a princess. You could roll around in the mud, wear nothing but rags and behave like a wild animal, but at the end of the day, you’d still be a princess. It can’t be helped!”

“That’s not what I—”

“You are perfectly fine the way you are, Charlie.”

Charlie’s cheeks blossomed, like a beautiful rose, and her jaw dropped a little. Her expression got more open, flushed and relieved, and without saying a word, she stepped closer to me and pressed her hot face into my chest. I chuckled and gently caressed her hair.  
  
“I’m… not perfect, Al,” she mumbled.

“I never said you were,” I said. “But dear _god,_ are you on the verge of it.”

That made her burst into a bubbly, light laughter, vibrating against my chest and through the rest of my body. It was a warm, pleasant sensation.

When the laughter stopped, Charlie looked up at me, still smiling. “You’re funny, Al.”

Despite everything, I felt a bit puzzled. “Why? I’m not kidding.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s what makes you so funny – not to mention incredibly _adorable_.”

She giggled, grabbed my chin and pressed an appreciative smooch against my lips. The unforseen action and the blood-tingling sensation it caused was enough to make my head spin for a bit.

Though I still wanted to know what exactly she meant to say, Charlie then grabbed my hand and opened the door of the bedroom a little more. Giving my hand a slight pull, she tried to convince me to follow her out of the room.

“Come along now, Al – we can’t keep your friend waiting! That’s rude!”

Her hand was sweet, kind and fitted so well in mine, and I found myself forgetting about whatever that may have been hidden in Charlie’s words as we left the bedroom. I had more problems to be concerned about after all, and now that Charlie and I had left the safe confines of her private chamber, my mind was already occupied with the next step of the plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actaeon is a young and bright hunter who one days goes out for a hunt. While he roams the woods near his home, he unwittingly stumbles upon a couple of naked ladies, who happen to be enjoying a bath in a forest spring. Actaeon is spotted right away and the women all begin to scream in horror. You might think that this is just an unfortunate encounter and that after some yelling and apologizing, Actaeon should have been able to get away scot-free – if these people had indeed been ordinary ladies. However – they were Diana, the Roman Goddess of the Hunt, and her escort of nymphs! Diana, famous for her chasteness and her despise of men, goes absolutely berserk when she sees the young guy peeping on them and, in a fit of embarrassed fury, splashes water on Actaeon that transforms him into a deer with long antlers. Actaeon loses his ability to speak and is – rightfully – terrified of what happened to him, so he flees in fear… only to get mauled by his own hunting dogs a little while later.
> 
> One of the many myths that can be found back in Ovid’s “Metamorphoses”. Painters back then really liked to make art based on the moment the young hunter discovers the Goddess and her nymphs taking a bath. Why? Well, in case you didn’t know yet – people are naughty creatures. XDDD


	16. Little Red Riding Hood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was heavily wondering whether to call this chapter 'Little Red Riding Hood' or 'Moby Dick'. In the end, I decded to go with the fairy tale, because that's the overall theme of these chapters - and 'Moby Dick' is a gruesomely huge book, not a fairy tale. However, after having read the chapter, can you hazard a guess why I was hesitating between these two stories? _*wiggles eyebrows*_ Tell me!
> 
> Well, looks like [Chisena](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt) made even more party clothes for Lucifer and Lilith's party!^^ Click [here](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1323570915628605446) if you'd like to see what Luci and Lili will look like, according to Chisena… and scroll further down to see them and Al and Charlie united in one lovable family pic. XDDDDDD How wonderful! <3 <3 
> 
> We have a new narrator this week: it's Rosie, Alastor's good friend and ally! 8DDDDD Just what has she been up to…?

Well well well, now wasn’t _this_ just the cutest, _quaintest_ ruby-red lobby I had ever laid my eyes on! That rascal Alastor hadn’t lied – this daring, attention-seeking kind of interior decoration style was _exactly_ my cup of tea!

Amused and curious about what else would be here for me to find, I crooked my neck and let my wide eyes drift over the multiple crimson walls, the scarlet furniture, the gaudy paintings in the rich, golden frames, the passing, colorless inhabitants of the hotel and, at last, over the most _endearing_ pale, half-blind moth girl I had seen in years. She had returned from – wherever she had been, I honestly didn’t care, ah ha ha – and now came to deliver a cup of rose tea (oh! The lovely _irony_!) at the redwood-colored table she had stationed me a while ago.

“Here you go,” she said, carefully placing the darling plate and cup on the table’s surface. “Also, um, thanks for your patience, ma’am. I just got a text message from Angel Dust – he said that he’s alerted them. So Alastor and the manager will be downstairs before you know it. Would you like a cookie with that tea?”

I only partially listened to whatever she was saying – I found it much more interesting to study her _perfect_ figure from head to toe, nodding approvingly. 

“Very nice – very nice indeed!” 

She frowned, clutching the tray to her chest. “Uh… so I take it you’d like a cookie?”

“Cookie? _Heavens_ child, I’m talking about your _measurements_! Your natural _poise_! Your plain, yet unavoidable _elegance_! _Grace_! And it doesn’t hurt you’re not too ugly to look at, either – I _adore_ the way you dress and express yourself!” I exposed my teeth and leaned my chin upon my hand, continuing to eye the girl. “Yes yes – you would fit nicely in my upcoming show next month! Have you ever modelled before, hmm? Not sure if I can pay you all that much since I really need the money, but – how about it?”

“I haven’t and no, I’m not interested.”

“No?” I checked her again. “Surely you must have had a profession that had got something to do with fashion before you ended up in this dump we lovingly call Hell. And you better hand me a _good_ reason for refusing me as _coldly_ as you did, dolly! Because otherwise, that just won’t do! Tut tut tut!”

“Ma’am, I—”

“Tut tut!”

“Are you done?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Ma’am, we don’t ‘lovingly’ call this place Hell – this place _is_ Hell. Period. And back when I was alive, I was too busy with… lying on my back to even _think_ about fashion. Or anything, really. I rather didn’t think at all.”

I gasped, gently laying a hand on my busty chest. “Goodness _gracious_ me, but what on earth did you do for a living when you were still dwelling in the land of the living, then?”

“Getting fucked by the most depraved, ruthless people society knows and fears for pennies on the dollar, mostly. Until one slimy asshole’s secret ambitions to make a revolting snuff film almost killed one of my colleagues and I had to repeatedly hammer my high heels and a screwdriver into his skull to save her. That sure did get the point across his ugly, fat, suddenly _dead_ ass. Then his bud stomped on my throat with his heavy safety boots and broke several of my cervical vertebrae. I was in great agony for many hours, my co-worker ended up dying in the end anyway, and, ultimately, so did I.”

Confounded, I stared at her.

“So how about that cookie,” she wanted to know, putting a hand on her waist.

I had to hold back a broad grin. Mercy me! If I hadn’t been a sophisticated lady, I would have shamefully exhaled through my nostrils at that last, casual comment. Oh dear, this hotheaded tomboy had some _fire_ in her! I liked her already – she was most entertaining! I was starting to understand Alastor’s choice to live here more and more!

“Very well, dolly,” I said with a graceful smile, collectedly folding my hands on my legs, “might as well go for a cookie then!”

  
**RrR**

  
Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long for Alastor to appear. Hardly had I sipped anything from my delightfully flowery tea, or I heard some footsteps coming down the stairways, just a few feet away from my table. Distracted, I stopped observing the charming small cleaning lady zooming about the lobby (oh and wasn’t that little creature a _peach,_ too – shame that she was too tiny to be useful to me) and watched from afar as Alastor and the manager of the hotel descended from above. 

I’m an engrossed businesswoman and most of the time, certain matters simply – _whoosh_ – disappeared from my memories. I didn’t like to have my mind cluttered with useless information I do nothing with when I had a bleeding establishment I needed to look after, so people should pardon me for momentarily being profoundly _puzzled_ when I realized none other than Princess Charlotte _herself_ was the hotel’s manager. 

It was only for a moment, though! Soon after, I recalled having heard before that Hell’s Princess had moved in her parents’ old vacation house to make it a place for sinners to rehabilitate. Naturally, naturally. It all made sense to me very soon, don’t worry.

In silence, I looked at both Alastor and the princess some more. They were discussing something amusing, I dared to say, and the princess kept laughing _most_ enchantingly. Her hand was resting on Alastor’s forearm and he guided her down the final few stairs with a devotion I had seldom seen with him before. 

The way he looked at her, touched the smaller hand on his arm, responded to her every move and word…

Oh my – I almost felt _embarrassed_ watching it!

However, I couldn’t take my eyes of this little spectacle. I found myself picking up the chocolate cookie the moth girl had given me before and eating a small bit of it, savoring the extremely sweet taste that, somehow, still wasn’t as sugary as the romantic scene playing right in front of me.

They both looked so _happy._

How very _interesting_!

  
**RrR**

  
It had been… oh, say, a year or so ago? It was when the girl still lived in the Royal Palace with King Lucifer and Queen Lilith. Back then, I had decided to finally come visit one of the Royal Family’s infamous parties – and that’s where I had seen Her Demonic Highness in the flesh for the very first time: Princess Charlotte Magne, the future ruler of Hell.

A truly beautiful, dignified yet so very _unhappy_ -looking young woman, completely dressed in the _inkiest,_ most _unsuitable_ black ball gown I had seen in quite a while.

Black: the most unnerving shape of darkness, of death, of fear, of the unknown. Not matter how breathtaking this non-color could be – it was seldom related to anything ‘good’ or pleasant. 

These were the first things I noticed about her that evening.

It mattered not that the princess smiled just as professionally as her parents did, nor did it matter that she seemingly knew to handle and ignore the gossipy nature of the gathering flawlessly. One with an experienced eye, such as myself, knew misery when it presented itself, even if the bearer of all that sorrow was no stranger to concealing her feelings behind a veil of false smiles and well-prepared conversational topics.

A pearl among the swine, the Princess of Hell was bleak, _sad_ little thing. 

And why wouldn’t she be? She probably knew the rumors that went around the city about her all too well. 

How sinners joked about her, telling each other that their weak princess was a laughable, ridiculous _mistake_ that didn’t belong in Hell. That she was a dumb, idealistic little girl, too estranged from the actual rotten world that was Hell to realize what was going on here. That she probably wasn’t even an actual product of her parents, but an Angel child, abandoned from Heaven and taken in by the King and Queen of the Underworld, who found killing the child either too cruel or too bothersome. 

These rumors were nothing but baseless accusations and the people spreading them were nothing but ignorant fools, if you’d ask me.

Yes, I could tell the princess was a bleak and sad little thing – but I also noted she wasn’t _weak._

At the party, Princess Charlotte kept her head up, straightened her back, walked forward. There was a hidden fierceness _burning_ somewhere inside those gloomy orbs, that looked around her messy future kingdom with a strong _determination_ even her own father and mother could learn from.

I was too fascinated by this miserable, yet stubbornly-optimistic girl to feel bad for her. 

I remembered wondering, during that event, what this suppressed princess would have in store for Hell, would she ever take over the throne. Would she be able to change things up down here in Hell? Would she be able to make circumstances _better_? 

I didn’t know what to think of her, but I expected that, sooner or later, she could be the breeze of fresh wind us sinners and demons were secretly yet so desperately _longing_ for.

To see her _now_ , outside of the palace, in some regular, boorish clothes (an eggshell white blouse, a coral pink vest…), her hair let down, her manners and way of speech _far_ from formal and her peppy, lively personality entrapping most of the people around her within this protective bubble of positivism and benevolence, as soon as they stepped inside of her hotel…

It proved to me that she was as mighty as I had expected her to be.

 _Especially_ since she had managed to ensnare Alastor into her cozy little red safe house.

Not that I hadn’t seen _that_ one coming. 

  
**RrR**

  
Ah ha ha, oh my, but of _course_ I suspected the blithering idiot would fall for her – head over heels!

You see – I had been acquaintances with Alastor for quite some decades, ever since he awakened in Hell. 

He was a special one. Yes, that’s the word. _Special._ Someone who always seemed to be… _unobtainable_ : a slippery, cunning, unpredictable charmer, deceiving everybody with his wide grin and unreadable nature. He effortlessly used and manipulated others for his own gain – and he always got his way. Having rather easily climbed up from a lowly sinner to an actual overlord of Hell, Alastor proved he was very much capable of causing a whole lot more despair, pain and death than even Hell’s bloodiest rulers were used to, if he was provoked a few times too many. And according to some reliable sources, the King and Queen of Hell themselves _feared_ him, in a way.

Did I fear him? Well, perhaps ‘fear’ was too strongly put… but I knew that life in Hell would be much less difficult for me if I went along with his kooky schemes and plans. Keep the man entertained, at any cost – that was my creed. I didn’t mind pleasing him – apart from knowing getting along with the Radio Demon would be most beneficial for my health, I also simply _liked_ Alastor.

Not like _that._

 _Heavens_ no. Don't lump me in with those ghastly admirers of his.

But he _did_ entertain me so!

Oh I _loved_ the ‘life’ Alastor brought to Hell, the way he stirred things up and _laughed_ at the mess he left behind!

Now, I wasn’t as dangerous as Alastor was when I was bored out of my mind… that’s unbecoming for a lady like me. However, I did enjoy immersing myself into some _wild_ entertainment, almost just as much as he did! Hence why it was no bother for me to participate in his plans and plots, oh ho ho, not at all! He was a _hoot_!

One could imagine my surprise when he one day announced to me he was going to move in some rehabilitation hotel.

“Oh no, dear Rosie, do not fret!” he had laughed upon seeing my baffled expression, “I’m not going to let myself get redeemed – of course not, that’s just silly nonsense! It’s for my own amusement only! Please, dear – do _think_ about all the _hopelessness_ I get to see in there! All those sinners, foolishly trying to claw their way out of their personal despair and, in the process, only sinking further and further down in this black, tarry hole of _failure_ … It will be so wonderfully _amusing_ to see!”

That had made sense, so I had grinned widely at him and asked him who was running this so-called ‘Happy Hotel’. 

He had cackled loudly at that, scaring some onlookers on the street. “That might be the biggest riot of all, my dear: none other than _Princess Charlotte Magne_ , Hell’s very own charming Crown Princess!”

Upon hearing that, my smile lessened ever so slightly.

“Being there as she wakes up from this batty dream of hers… watching her fall apart after all of her ideals and good-will get mercilessly **_crushed_** by the cold, hard reality of this cheerless world… that will be the most rewarding and entertaining event I’d _ever_ witness!” he continued, his red eyes gleaming, his vile, yellow teeth bared for all to see. “I can’t _wait_ to mock our fair princess as she falls off her high horse… and to rub that adorable, pretty face of hers into the savage, unforgiving _rules_ Hell has set in stone for its sinners!”

Hmm?

It was _one_ thing to call someone ‘charming’, ‘adorable and pretty’ and ‘fair’ right to their faces: swaying people and winning them over with grand compliments and false niceness could have many usable merits, after all. Every lowlife here knew _that._

But calling someone all of those sugary sweet petnames behind their back, without having _any_ reason to do so, and saying this about the person with an alien, upbeat _twinge_ to his voice that I hadn’t heard before and couldn’t directly connect to shadier, more _nefarious_ motives…

Alastor had never done that before.

I kept quiet about my suspicions and concerns, however, plastered a sadistic smile on my face and jollily wished him good luck with his goal of ‘infiltrating’ the hotel and watching all the horrible misery in there happening from up-close. I even suggested that maybe, he could even give me a call every now and then, letting me know how things were going, how close the princess was to having a mental break-down. Wouldn’t that be _delightful_?

He agreed that this would indeed be very entertaining to do so and promised to keep me up to date. 

He did _not._

Months passed without him ever trying to contact me, and when I finally encountered him again, in my own establishment even, I had trouble with recognizing him at all! He had looked so different, so… _insignificant_!

While I recovered from my initial bewilderment, Alastor pretended nothing peculiar was going on at all and kindly asked me to please hand over his human glasses, that I had kept behind for him. He also nonchalantly asked me if I, oh, pray tell, happened to have a nice, classy dress laying around, fit for a lady with a certain status.

Regardless of his expression, I had noticed the fire-red blotches, creeping up his high collar.

Colors say a lot, you know?

Anyway, this request would prove to only be the very _beginning_ of all the strange and compelling favors Alastor would start asking of me – and honestly, hadn’t I been so very intrigued with whatever that was going on with him and that hotel, I’d probably have attacked and tried to murder him right where he stood. That would teach him for both ignoring _and_ underestimating his good friend for so long! 

But nothing was happening in Hell. 

And this turn of events was just so _interesting_.

So very _interesting_!

The great and arrogant Radio Demon had experienced something _otherworldly_ in that hotel – and it showed. 

Too much in need for something to get my mind off my own troubles and too enthralled by the way Alastor’s plan was turning itself against him and changing into something new, I vowed to myself that I would keep playing along with his bizarre, outlandish scenario’s, until I had seen the last, probably tragically _tearful_ end scene of it.

Ah ha ha ha ha!

**I’d gladly sit in the first row for that bit of entertainment!**

  
**RrR**

  
Now, I had to say, one of the few _good_ traits Alastor had, was that he wasted no time trying to hide things of which he knew they were out in the open anyway. And while I doubted that all of Hell was aware that the princess and Alastor were in a relationship, he had most likely accepted that _I_ was aware of it, at the very least.

 _Naturally_ I was, if I may add – you can only order so many dresses until one’s mind starts to wonder.

So when the fashionable moth girl leaded him and Princess Charlotte my way, he didn’t attempt to pry her hand off him or distance himself from the future Queen of Hell – no, he simply squeezed the princess’ hand on his arm as they walked towards me and acknowledged me with a big, proud grin. 

“Good afternoon, Rosie! How _dazzling_ you look, my dear!”

I stood up from my chair and chortled, giving both him and the princess a little curtesy. “Oh ho ho, Alastor, don’t make me laugh, you _devil_! You and I know both very well I only plucked something simple out of the wardrobe this morning!”

“Something simple, huh,” I heard the moth girl mutter, as both she and the princess eyed the close-bodied, silver-and-ebony-colored gown I was wearing. It had pleats from the shoulders, stitched down to affix the cotton, metal and silk fabric to my body, and the amplitude of the dress was released into the long skirt. It went nicely with my Angel-feathered, jet-black sunhat, too!

I laughed heartily and made a little twirl. “Like what you see, girls? Well don’t you worry! It only took me five hours to look like this! Easy as pie!”

“Some pie _that_ was,” the moth girl mumbled, making the princess chuckle and hastily turn her head away.

“In any case,” Alastor spoke up, and I looked back at him, “Rosie, may I have the honor of introducing you to my darling Charlie?”

“Charlie?” I repeated. “Who’s Charlie?”

He ignored my question, gave his lover a little nod and the blonde woman greeted me by sending me one of those well-studied smiles she had grown used to giving, over the past couple of centuries. However, this one seemed a bit more honest than the ones she forcefully stuck on her face during the parties her parents liked to throw. The demonic princess let go of Alastor’s arm and for a moment, she clearly hesitated between giving me a little bow as well or just reaching out her hand towards me – so I helped her out by grabbing her faltering hand with my gloved one and giving it a short, elegant shake.

“Princess Charlotte,” I politely said, “it is such a _delight_ to finally be able to speak with you, Your Highness!”

“Oh – um – you can just call me Charlie, please,” she insisted, “I can’t stand it when people call me by my full name. It makes me feel… well, I just like Charlie better. So if you don’t mind, please call me by _that_ name, uhm…”

I cracked a wide grin. “Rosie! You can just call me Rosie, sugar plum – and if we’re going to skip the formalities anyway, don’t mind me taking full advantage of that freedom!”

“That’s alright!” the princess beamed a relieved smile right back at me. “You’re Alastor’s good friend, after all – please _do_ take advantage of that freedom and call me whatever you like!”

“As long as it’s not her full name, that is,” Alastor helpfully added.

Charlie gave him a grateful smile, but didn’t say anything to that. She did allow him to take her hand, though.

Well I’ll be – weren’t the two of them just ridiculously _precious_ together? Like two peas in a pod! Ah ha ha ha, Alastor was so taken in by his ladyfriend, he didn’t even mind how _**weak**_ and **_vulnerable_** this cute hand-holding-shtick made him look in my eyes!  
  
I knew him longer than today, though.

I noticed he kept his mismatched eyes on me.

Saw that his smile got ominous.

Felt his shadow fall on my body, making me feel like suffocating.

I wouldn’t step out of line.

Choking out a slightly chaotic, yet elated giggle, I exchanged glances with both Charlie and Alastor. 

“Now, you two cutie pies, _before_ we get down to business, I simply _need_ to know – when’s the wedding, hmmm?”

As expected, I caught the two of them off guard and both the princess and Alastor successfully made at least five different shades of ‘flustered’ appear on their faces in response. Charlie’s quirky cheeks lit up like a maroon light, while Alastor, once again, got dark, odd splotches in his neck and on his face.

“U-uhm…” Charlie stammered.

“Well – that is…” Alastor bumbled as well.

“There’s no date yet? Or – oh my, is there even an engagement at _all_?” Loving the half-playful, half-malicious jest, I fluttered with my big, dark eyes and shot the Radio Demon a disapproving look. “Alastor – don’t tell me you haven’t proposed to the princess yet, you massive _bore_!”

“He didn’t,” Charlie intervened before Alastor could reply, her blush intensifying. “ _I_ did. Kind of. Sort of. In the – library.”

Out of the blue, I felt something unusual in my chest area. A sudden _pang._ As if something got hit. Something soft and weird, that now started leaking and spread a strange sensation inside of my chest. 

“You’re engaged,” I concluded, surprised to hear how soft and sweet my voice sounded, and tried to make eye-contact with Alastor. He apparently felt too embarrassed to look back, since he _now_ did the best he could to avoid my curious, questioning look and instead fixedly stared at some spot on the wall next to him. The moth lady simply snorted at that.

His lover, however, wasn’t quite as embarrassed – _au contraire_ , the lovely dame didn’t feel too bothered at all! 

“It wasn’t the best proposal, I bet, a-and I’ll probably try and do it over once I get the chance, but – but yes. Technically, he’s – engaged. To _me._ Uhm…” Charlie bit her lip, but then she raised Alastor’s unwilling hand and showed its back to me. “I’ll – I’ll replace it as soon as I can, but for now, we use this bookmarker as a – a promise.”

I stared. Alastor’s ring finger indeed had a vermillion piece of string looped around it. A very adorable and romantic symbol of their love.

That was not what had caught my eye, though.

The hand was pulled back and Alastor – still looking more caught off balance than he had ever looked before in my memories – coughed, unmistakably attempting to recollect himself and move on to a different subject to talk about. His hand disappeared behind his back, away from my gaze.

“Alright then – all of this has been _very_ nice and well, but… how about the _surprise,_ Rosie?” When he was sure Charlie couldn’t see, Alastor gave me such a nasty glare that I could feel the hairs in my neck raise up in protest. “Isn’t it about time you showed Charlie and me the surprise you’ve prepared for us, **_dear_**?”

“Of course,” I smoothly went along with his urgent question, ignoring the goosebumps on my covered body, and slithered a hand around the princess’ slim waistline. “Charie dear, do you have a spare room in your precious little hotel, with a lot of natural sunlight, some sort of podium and a couple of mirrors, preferably cheval glasses?”

“Yes – my mother’s old dressing room.” The princess clasped her hands together as she let me walk with her. “Have you made even _more_ clothes for us? Are you – are you going to dress us for my parents’ party? Al hinted that much, but – but you couldn’t have… have you _actually_ …? Oh god, that would be so _amazing_!”

Her gasping, kind words took me by surprise. “You – _like_ my work?”

“ _Yes_! _So_ much!”

I cooed nonsensically. Oh my! But this princess was quite the sweetheart, wasn’t she? Her innocent, earnest enthusiasm and shameless adoration for my work was stroking my ego in a way I hadn’t felt in decades – and I rather liked it, yes I did! Feeling my motivation flare up, I was more than happy to follow Charlie back up the stairway, chatting away with her about mundane things, like how funny it was to go back up the stairs after having just descended them, ah ha ha, well how very amusing indeed!

…Alastor, in the meantime, silently pursued us in our tracks, his never-faltering stare pricking into my neck. 

But oh, who cared about pricking necks when there was an adorable princess to fix up! Because – I had to face it: business wasn’t exactly going smoothly these days, and there was hardly a sinner in town who could still afford one of my dresses. If Charlie bought one of mine – an expensive one! – then perhaps I could carry on for at least another month. Plus, it wasn’t like I got the opportunity to adorn Royals with my humble work every day… 

Oh, let a girl _dream_!

  
**CcC**

  
In each and every place and home my mother had ever lived, she had always had at least one big, imposing chamber for herself and for herself alone – and her former dressing room in the hotel wasn’t any different from other houses. 

The dressing room’s purpose hadn’t only been storing an incredibly _huge,_ golden vanity (which took up almost one entire wall of the room), but also all of her many, many, many, many, many, _many_ outerwear, underwear, headwear, footwear and dresses. Seriously – my mother had so many clothes, she needed multiple dressers for storing all of them… and that was why yet another, _boarder_ wall of the dressing room was fully packed with all of my mother’s long, broad and pitch-black wardrobes, all very dramatically decorated and all reaching the high ceiling of the room.

There also was this small wooden, round podium in the middle of the room, surrounded by multiple large cheval glasses. Their surfaces all shone brightly at us (probably thanks to Niffty’s good care of the furniture in each and every room in the hotel) when Rosie, Al and I entered the dressing room. 

I turned to Rosie and wanted to tell her something about the room – I mean, as impressive and large as the chamber was, it also was a very neglected room, just like the ball room had been – but Rosie was too excited to get started and immediately dragged me over to the podium, pushing me on top of it. 

“Oh goodness, yes yes, we can work with this! We can certainly work with this! What a delightful room you have, Charlie! It’s simply marvelous!” Rosie chirped, while I did my best not to stumble over my own two feet. “Now – let’s get you out of these silly little working clothes and get down to business! Chop chop!”

“But—”

“Chop _chop_ , sugar plum!” Rosie even clapped her hands to stress the… chop-choppy-ness of the situation, I suppose.

I smiled sheepishly. “Fine with me, but… should – should Al be here, then…?”

“Al? Oh – Alastor, you mean? You call him _Al_? How _adorable_ you two are, with your stubborn refusal to call each other by the names your parents gave you! Just a second!” Rosie paused from tugging on my blouse to look over her shoulder, to where Al was standing. “Do you mind seeing your sweet Charlie in her undergarments, Alastor dear?”

Al – looking comically uncomfortable to be here and obviously jolting a bit when he was suddenly addressed to – tried to answer her. “As a matter of fact, I—”

“Or are you going to _pounce_ her to the ground as soon as you catch one glimpse of her ivory skin, like some uncouth criminal?” Rosie _bulldozered_ right on through, all while expertly undressing me _with the usage of just one hand and not even looking my way as she did so_.

“Uhm…!” I stammered – then shrieked, because my pants disappeared at the same time as my shirt did, leaving me exposed in just my - mismatched, oh god, I could just die – bra and panties. 

Alastor automatically flushed, startled to see me almost naked all of a sudden, and twirled around on his heels so fast he almost tripped over his cane/radio standard. His radio audience seemed to find all of this _very_ entertaining, since their echoing laughter filled the room seconds after their host had politely turned away from me.

Rosie frowned at that reaction and leaned a bit closer to me. “Pardon the question, Charlie, but you two _have_ … consummated your relation already, yes?”

I blushed and nodded. “We… we have.”

“Have you now? Well then why does he react this embarrassed, like he has never seen you bare-skinned before?”

“That’s just the way he is.”

“How odd.”

I shrugged, peeking over her shoulder to Al’s unshaking back. “I don’t mind. I… think it’s cute.”

“Then you’re an odd duck as well.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

Rosie finally stopped looking at Alastor and let her eyes, dusky and creepy, meet mine. Her white, pointy teeth appeared from behind her thin lips and she grinned, amused by my remark. Then, she grabbed me by my shoulders. 

“Oh well! Never mind that buffoon now – we’re here for _you_ , first!”

“I might have my back turned towards you, but I can still hear you just _fine_ , Rosie,” Alastor reminded her.

“I know dear – hence why I said it out loud,” Rosie called back, shooting a wink at me and making me suppress a giggle. 

After that, the female demon put pressure to my shoulders and turned me around, until I faced my own reflections, circling around me in the many mirrors around the little stage. I felt not completely at ease, since I wasn’t wearing comfortable underwear and since there was a strange demonic lady with razor-sharp fangs breathing down my neck standing right behind me – but knowing that Al was in the same room as I was gave me some peace of mind.

“You know what I saw when I took a first glance at your hotel, Charlie?” I both heard and saw Rosie speak out, as one of her cold hands reached for my chin and kindly tilted it upwards, making me look at myself. “I saw the color red. _Everywhere._ A fiery, _scandalous_ color, that has been associated with aggression, power and sexual energy for centuries. A color most fitting for someone like _you,_ if I may add…”

I looked at her through the mirror as her icy fingers grazed my chin. “Um. Well, I _do_ really like the color red…”

“Of course you do – both your hotel and your lover are nothing _but_ red. But you know what, Charlie? You’re not _all_ red.” Rosie made a gesture to the pile of discarded clothes, lying next to the podium. “You’re also a lot of _white,_ sugar plum. It’s an achromatic color most befitting for a God or a partly Angelic being like you – not only because it symbolizes light, hope and goodness, but also because white things _demand respect_ and may even strike _fear_ in the hearts of those who ridicule them. Because even though white is often associated with things that are pleasant and pure, there is a peculiar _emptiness_ about the color white. It is the emptiness of the white that is more _disturbing_ than even the bloodiness of red.”

“O-okay,” I managed, swallowing. “That’s a rather… distressing description of the color white…” 

“Why _thank_ you!”

“That was not necessarily a complime—”

“So you are both red and white! Know what you get when you mix these two together? _Pink_! A color you also happen to be very fond of, judging on your tacky little vest!” Rosie happily carried on, not paying my words any attention. “While you might think pink is a very sweet and girly color, a hue that makes you think about flowers, dresses, babies and soft loveliness – it’s actually a color that used to be associated with _war_ and _men._ The faded color of blood on soldiers’ clothes… the fact that boys’ futures were a lot more ‘rose-colored’ than those of the girls… Not to mention how this shade is connected to strong, independent, willful women throughout the ages! There’s so much more to the color pink than just cuteness, Charlie – just like there’s so much more to _you_ , sugar plum!”

Just like Alastor, Rosie sure had her way with words. The _passion_ in her words as she spoke about colors and which ones were most suitable for me – they made me listen to her with bated breath, completely enthralled by everything she said. 

Rosie squeezed my face. “In conclusion: you are a sweet, but also _ambitious_ woman, bottled up with pent-up frustrations and needs. A smart, independent, _strong_ female that knows what she wants in life and that has spent far too much time wilting away in the shadows of her parents and the gossipy higher-ups of Hell. Well no more of that! You deserve to be _seen,_ Charlie, to let others turn their unworthy necks towards you! So the dress that I have in mind for you, well – I made sure that you’re going to draw some attention towards you when you wear it!”

As soon as she released my cheeks, I chuckled. “At this point, I – I don’t think I can do anything else _but_ believe you! I like the color pink a lot as well, so… wait, does that mean – you’re planning to dress me up in pink?”

“Indeed I am. You need to wear a dress that matches your quirky personality!” Rosie smirked and her nails gripped my shoulders. “Dressing you in a hue you noticeably adore so much only makes sense… _and_ it'll boost your charisma and confidence! You’ll look _great,_ sugar plum, believe me. Are you ready to see it for yourself? Wait – let me take your measurements, first. Wouldn’t like to _poof_ you into a dress that’s too small or too big for you!”

Rosie took out a yellow measuring tape and started to wind it around my waist – but hardly had the material touched my skin or I flinched, inhaling and exhaling slowly, letting out a shaky laugh. 

“I’m… I’m a bit anxious though – I might throw up.”

She beamed, triumphantly stretching out her mouth. “Oh ho ho! Such _unconventional_ words of praise! But thank you very much!”

I was going to tell her that I, once again, _wasn’t_ joking or complimenting her and that all of this excitement, plus the fact that I hadn’t eaten anything yet, _really_ was going to make me puke, but thankfully, the nauseous feeling that had suddenly started to build up just as abruptly faded away again, and I let out a breath of relieve. 

“Okay,” I said, raising my head and looking straight at my own half-nervous, half-excited smile. “Let me see what you have, Rosie!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother is sick and the girl therefore decides to pay her a visit. During her trip to her grandmother’s house, however, the girl is being followed by the Big Bad Wolf. When the fiend gets the chance to talk to her, he suggests she picks some nice flowers for her sick granny. While she does so, the Wolf goes to the grandmother’s house, pretends to be Little Red Riding Hood… and swallows the poor woman whole! He then disguises himself as the grandmother and crawls into bed.  
> When the girl finally arrives, she’s baffled to see how strange her granny looks. She then asks her ‘grandmother’ a couple of questions:
> 
> LRRH: ‘Why is your voice so deep?’  
> BBW: ‘The better to greet you with, child!’  
> LRRH: ‘Why are your eyes so big?’  
> BBW: ‘The better to see you with, sweetie!’  
> LRRH: ‘Why is your mouth so big?’  
> BBW: ‘The better to EAT YOU WITH!’
> 
> The Wolf leaps out of bed and eat the girl, too, before promptly falling asleep. Later, a hunter, who had heard the ruckus, comes in, cuts open the Wolf’s belly and rescues the (somehow unharmed) grandmother and girl. He then fills the belly up with rocks and stones. This means the end of the Big Bad Wolf, because after he wakes up and tries to drink something from a nearby river, the heavy weight of the stones cause him to tumble into the river and drown. 
> 
> Perrault was the first to come up with this fairy tale, but the Brothers Grimm were the ones to put a ‘happy ending’ to it: in the original, the story ended as soon as the Wolf had eaten the grandmother and Little Red Riding Hood…


	17. The Emperor's New Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's already been a few months since I've started this sequel. I'm not updating as often as I used to do when I was writing the Library-fic, so please allow me to take this opportunity and thank all of you readers for sticking with me on this journey so far!^^ I cannot stress enough how just much it means to me to see and read people are (still) enjoying this fic. So am I, in all honesty!  
> So - well, thank you very much! I appreciate your time! 8DDDD 
> 
> As for this week's update: Alastor has some plans and schemes up his sleeve. You might spot some of them in this very chapter.  
> Some happenings and developments may seem coincidental. _Are_ they really, though...?
> 
> (Also, you'll find out what kind of get-up Alastor will wear at the party. I'm sorry if I didn't describe it carefully enough - I did my best!^^;;;)

Now, despite my great intellect, experience and knowledge, there still were many things that remained big, unfathomable mysteries to me.

The annual Purge, for example, when Exterminators (or Death Angels) would come down from the Heavens above to annihilate as much sinners as they could. I… simply didn’t get the concept. Killing off sinners to make room for more sinners, only to kill those new sinners off the very next year after, endlessly continuing the murderous circle? That didn’t sound like a successful formula to _me._ Instead of mindlessly weeding out the ‘evil’ each and every year, wouldn’t it be better to try and find another solution? I’m not saying people should starting doing what Charlie did (I still thought her idea of trying to rehabilitate bad people was a ridiculous one, _especially_ since it was nothing but a drop in the ocean), but at least my bright-eyed lover made an active attempt to _change_ something in Hell. To make it a better place. If more important higher-ups in Hell started thinking in possibilities, like our darling princess did, then, perhaps, the Underworld could actually _solve_ its overpopulation within a few years. 

Also, wouldn’t murdering sinners make the angelic perpetrators just as sinful as the people they offed, or were they free to kill and stab whoever they wanted to? Did the Death Angels have these kinds of privileges? Were the Death Angels even _alive_?

Another mystery that kept stupefying me was Charlie’s very own hotel. I had already spent - hmm, well - four to five months in this establishment, before finally finding out there was an actual library here. Some months later, I discovered a ball room. And today? Today, I got to know yet _another_ room: a dressing room that used to be Queen Lilith’s private chamber. What was next? What other, new room would appear out of nowhere? A gym? A greenhouse? A secret workroom next to the library in which Niffty wrote her godawful sex stories and listened in on me and Charlie exchanging passionate kisses?

Ha ha, I kid! Obviously!

And yet – **_the mind reels_** … 

But!

The biggest, most astonishing mystery of all was the fact that Charlie’s lovable charm and genuine friendliness had the power to win over practically _everybody,_ ranging from chaotic serial killers and kidnapped, depressed Angels to even the most diabolical, deranged, psychotic and extremely untrustworthy demons of Hell. 

Demons like, say, _Rosie,_ who had even _less_ redeeming qualities about her than I had, and who always seemed to be open to participating in something evil or petty (as long as it would benefit and entertain her, in whatever way _that_ could be). 

  
It was profoundly _bewildering_ how _easily_ Hell’s next ruler in line – my sweet, lovable Charlie – could get along swimmingly with someone like Rosie, just by being her own, sunny self.

Or _was_ it, now?

I smirked as I halfheartedly listened to the ladies happily talking away to one another behind my back, my radio audience’s static noise reverberating around the room, my shadow twirling around on the wall in front of me restlessly. 

Had it been a gamble? No.

When all the odds are in one’s favor, there’s no longer a gamble to speak of.

  
**AaA**

  
Charlie and Rosie had been discussing and ‘remaking’ Charlie’s dress for a while now. 

Rosie had draped/’poofed’ Charlie in the dress she had prepared beforehand, but, much to her astonishment, Charlie _hadn’t_ instantly obediently agreed with her dress of choice. No – the princess had some _demands_ Rosie needed to work with: Charlie didn’t want too much skin to be showed, she didn’t want to put on ‘sparkling panties’ (whatever _those_ were, I _certainly_ didn’t wish to know), she didn’t want to wear something that was too short or too long and she also didn’t want to walk around in a dress that would turn her into a – her words – ‘huge, yummy strawberry cheesecake’.

I had to chuckle at that last one – oh, it was such an irresistable Charlie-thing to say! For a moment, I had some difficulties with staying in place. Goodness, in every other situation, I probably would already have hurried myself to her side in a matter of seconds to, at the very _least,_ kiss her cheek for spouting cute words like that – but no, both Charlie and Rosie had been very clear: I was only allowed to turn around and look at Charlie when she was completely satisfied with her dress.

“Because I want it to be perfect,” Charlie had said to my back up from that little podium in the middle of the dressing room. “See, I... I want you to take one look at me in this dress and _immediately_ make you feel like you’ve won the ultimate jackpot – the _biggest_ lottery of all!”

Still standing with my back turned towards her, I had smiled at that comment. “Oh Charlie - I already _have_ won the lottery, my love. A few months ago, even!”

“You have? For real? Wh-what did you win?”

“Your hand in marriage.”

Charlie had fallen silent at that, although I did hear some rapid footsteps coming towards me – rapid footsteps that were abruptly cut short by Rosie presumably catching her and dragging her back to the little stage, patiently telling Charlie that there was more than enough time for her to kiss and hug the life out of me later, when the both of them were satisfied with the dress.

And now I wanted to hold Charlie even more! But I couldn’t. Ha ha!

Confound it all.

By the by, speaking about Rosie: people could easily get fooled by her deceivingly nice, somewhat demure looks and attitude. But make no mistake. Rosie was a mighty, hardboiled, _relentless_ woman, a demonic entity that could _effortlessly_ force her opinions onto others without breaking a sweat and without having any regards for the other person’s view on the matter, specifically when it was about clothing. She didn’t like getting a no for an answer, not even when the person she was talking to was somebody she regarded as a ‘friend’.

Therefore, I may have been a _tad_ unsure whether or not she would appreciate Charlie’s sometimes surprisingly _stubborn_ and _outspoken_ temperament when it came to topics Charlie liked – like fashion.

But Charlie never gave Rosie a no fo an answer.

She gave her _new insights._

And she gave them with that irresistible, cheerful enthusiasm that I had grown so very fond of.

“Oh my god, Rosie, I _love_ this dress,” Charlie gasped behind me, “but I doubt I can actually dance in it. That would be a waste, don’t you think? I’d step on the lower part of the skirt constantly. But maybe if I held it up…”

Another gasp, this one came from Rosie. “Dancing – heavens _no,_ sugar plum, this dress isn’t made for _dancing_! It’s mainly for walking around seductively and looking down on your enemies like the useless pieces of rubble they are! And there’s no way in Heaven or Hell I’m going to let you tote around your dress all night long – that’s not seductive at all! No no, if you’re looking for a dress you can freely dance in, how about we do _this_ to the skirt section of the dress?”

A soft ‘poof’-sound.

“Oh! You think it suits me like this?”

“Hmm, well – how about _this,_ then?”

Another soft ‘poof’-sound.

“But does _that_ fit with _this_?”

“Why wouldn’t _that_ fit with _this_?”

“Because of _this_ – does _that_ need to look like _this_ when combine with _that_?”

“Hmm. Ahh… Yes yes, I see.”

Yet another soft ‘poof’-sound. 

“Huh. Yeah… _almost_! This here... you see what I mean?”

“Oh! Yes, I _do_ see what you mean, sugar plum!”

Another soft ‘poof’ – for goodness sake, it was starting to sound like people were making popcorn in here.

But then, at _last,_ Charlie let out an ecstatic cry. “Yes – yes, that’s what I’m talking about! I freaking _love_ what you did with that fabric – oh my god, just look at the skirt, at the tulle – it looks so _awesome,_ Rosie!”

“Of course it does – it was made by _me_!” Rosie bragged, her voice high and upbeat. “Didn’t I promise you as much, Charlie? I ensured you I had the _perfect_ dress for you, after all! And there you have it! Oh ho ho ho!” 

I rolled my eyes at that and shook my head a little.

Did Charlie know she had this handy, socially-approved talent to make people readily bent to her will and wishes? I wondered. On the one hand, Charlie could be rather gullible and easy to fool – I had experienced this myself. On the other hand, this girl had been alive in Hell for many, _many_ centuries. She knew how to handle overlords and ne’er-do-wells, probably better that I could ever imagine. 

Realizing that I still hadn’t seen all of Charlie’s sides made me feel both _thrilled_ as well as it made me feel a bit… well, concerned, maybe.

Then again, who was I to talk?

Before I could ponder about Charlie a bit more and longer, my thoughts got distracted because of some celebratory, victorious female shrieks, which were loud enough to shut my confused, yapping radio audience right up. Since the both of them sounded adorably pleased and happy with something, I came to the logical conclusion that Rosie had, somehow, managed to materialize Charlie’s ideal party dress in the end.  
  
“Can I turn around now?” I asked, because the curiosity was getting to me – but barely had I twisted my head just a bit, or two small, gloved, _rude_ hands turned it right back at the wall in front of me. My blood boiled in an instant upon feeling this sudden, unwelcome intrusion and I instinctively wanted to slap those meddlesome hands from my face – but the way the familiar touch carefully fondled my jawlines and warmed my face prevented me from doing so, just in time.

“Charlie?” I still asked, if only to be sure.

She chuckled – and upon hearing her lovely voice so close by, I breathed out slowly.

“Don’t turn around just yet, Al: I want to see you in your neat clothes as well, and wouldn’t it be nice if we could _both_ see each other in our new clothes at the exact same time?”

“My love,” I started, taking her hands off my face to lightly squeeze them, “I adore your delightful commitment to my surprise, but please keep in mind it’s only a party dress and an attire for your parents’ gathering. It’s not a… well. It’s nothing _official._ If you know what I mean.”

I cleared my throat. That came out a bit awkwardly.

“I know what you mean, Al...”

Charlie laughed softly and her hands slipped down, until they rounded themselves around my waist. I could feel a delightful chill travelling over my back's skin, from top to bottom, when I felt her body pressing to mine and her lips leaving a kiss in-between my shoulder blades.

“…b-but wouldn’t it be nice to practice a little already…?”

I shuddered once more. Oh _lord._ She was so _charming,_ I could hardly stand it. One more sweet word from her lips and I’d tackle her before she’d even know what had hit her. 

“I suppose so,” I managed to say. I was happy she couldn’t see my face right now.

“Okay Al – in that case, I’ll go out of the dressing room, to show Vaggie and the others how I look - oh, and to peek on how the preperations for the karaoke evening are faring! In the meantime, Rosie will dress you up and when I return (don’t worry, I’ll knock on the door first!), we can both see each other all, uhm, dolled up for the very first time. It will be incredibly wonderful and there will be lots of rejoicing, hugging and kissing. Also sex.”

"Alright." I let out an amused chuckle. “Kind of an awkward thing to do with Rosie still in the room, but you always _were_ quite the daredevil.”

She had to snort at my witty remark, but quickly recovered herself. Charlie’s voice was a lot lower when she quietly carried on: “N-not _now,_ Al – and _certainly not_ with anybody around! I’m talking about _tonight._ You see, I really _wanted you_ this morning. Or – well – this afternoon, better said. Now, I want you tonight. I – I want you to make love to me tonight. Is… is that okay with you?”

I smiled, took one of her hands and brought it up to my mouth. The kiss I planted on top of her clothed palm perhaps was a bit too wet for a simple handkiss and I probably hadn’t needed to use my tongue at all, but since it made Charlie squirm and pant a little, I think my silent answer was crystal clear to her.

“Sugar plum,” Rosie then called out, brutally breaking down the sweet, sensuous tension that (up to _this_ point) had been increasing between me and Charlie, “how about you take your leave for now, like we agreed to? Go on, go show off your breathtaking attire to all of your darling little employees while I keep myself busy with putting your twiggy fiancé into a decent garment of his own!” 

“R-right!” Charlie stammered in response, taking a few steps away from me, her dress rustling softly. Her hand slipped out of my own and I instantly lamented losing its pleasant warmth so suddenly. “I’ll be back later then! Bye Al – bye Rosie!”

“I’ll see you later, my dear,” I smoothly replied.

Charlie exchanged some final pleasantries with Rosie, but then she really did head out of the room… 

…leaving both me and Rosie behind in a room of which the temperature spontaneously dropped a few degrees, the second the door fell shut.

  
**AaA**

  
I didn’t care too much for fashion, if I had to be honest. Not more than was needed, in any case.

This was a funny fact about me that would surprise most sinners greatly, I can imagine, given my status as a demonic gentleman… but I fear it was the truth. Don’t get me wrong, fashion _was_ fairly interesting and all that, but it wasn’t one of my top priorities – never had been one of them, either. 

However, that didn’t mean that I didn’t care about the way I looked. I _did_ care about my appearance, very _much_ even: the way one presented themself was the first thing others noticed _and_ remembered about them, after all, so naturally, I _always_ wanted to look my best. Luckily enough, I had been gifted with a rather charming and attractive face and presence, even after dying and coming to in Hell: I never needed to put that much effort into making myself look good. 

And remember: a handsome smile, positive attitude and some gallant manners could go a long way! 

...although I had to admit my pinstriped coat had seen better days. It had gotten a bit ragged at the bottom. Perhaps I should follow Niffty’s unasked advice and get myself a new one…

But I digressed – what I wanted to say was that I, unlike Charlie, wasn’t too fussy when it came to clothing and dressing up.

Dear old Rosie was fully aware of that.

So instead of giving me a lengthy and dramatic introduction before putting me in the clothes she had prepared for me, like she had done with Charlie, Rosie didn’t say much at all. All she did was dryly clapping her hands and making the clothes magically appear on me with another, even duller-sounding ‘poof’.

I looked at my new set of clothes in the many mirrors and cocked my head in wonder. “Oh my. No jacket of some sorts to go with this get-up, Rosie?”

And that was all the encouragement the woman needed.

With a sigh that barely concealed her eagerness to explain her clothing choices for me, she hopped on top of the podium as well, thinking it over for a bit, before coming closer to me anyway. 

“Now, for starters, Alastor dear – the reason why I didn’t put you in a jacket is _Charlie._ She seems to be _very_ fond of your body and its extremely rectangular shapes, for some reason.”

“The _devil_ you say. I do wonder what that reason could be. Perhaps the fact she’s madly in love with me plays a part in this _insane_ fascination of hers?”

Rosie didn’t appreciate my humoristic jab at her remark, but she didn’t respond to it, either. Ever the professional! 

“She _especially_ cherishes your backside,” she continued, her black orbs travelling lower and lower over my body. “She kept on talking so _fervently_ about your backside. Lord knows why – no offense, dear, but I have seen _lampposts_ with more buxom than your disappointing excuse for a bottom.”

“No offense taken,” I breezily said. 

“Hence why I didn’t exactly have an actual _suit_ for you in mind, but the garments you’re wearing right _now._ Allow me.” Rosie let her hands vaguely hover around me, never quite touching me. “For starters, I gave you a clean, white dress shirt to make your shoulders stand out a bit more. You’re not _that_ broad (and that dusty old coat with the patted shoulders isn’t fooling anybody, dear), but I daresay your upper body should be given the most attention. So you shouldn’t roll up the sleeves either, if you’d ask me. Your puny arms are _far_ from impressive - and they are covered with scars of lord-knows-what. It’s a bit indecent, I think… although, on the other hand, they say some people actually _enjoy_ to see these kinds of things. Does Charlie mind your scars? Isn’t she repulsed by them?”

“She doesn’t mind my scars and she isn’t repulsed by them. Not at all.”

“She makes you feel better about yourself, doesn’t she?”

“She’s an absolute sweetheart – and this is a very presentable shirt,” I said, blatantly ignoring her tone of voice as I rolled up my sleeves. “I especially like its lack of flutteriness.”

Rosie frowned. “Flutteriness? That’s hardly a word.” 

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m obviously rambling!” I looked away from the faded wounds on my skin and beamed a big grin at her. “Please, _do_ continue your oh so very informative explanation, Rosie!” 

“Very well.” If it would have been able to see them, I probably would have watched Rosie casting her eyes upwards in exasperation. “I also put you in a nice and tight, platinum-colored waistcoat – again, to emphasize the fact that your shoulders are _almost_ decent. You don’t have anything even _faintly_ resembling body fat, so I figured your chest and _impossible_ waist can handle the tightness of the buttoned waistcoat.”

I blinked. “What tightness?”

“Point proven.” Rosie smirked a little. “In any case, as you can see, I also gave you a simple, burgundy necktie. It fits well with your eyes – both the red and the brown one. That reminds me: you should let your eyes get fixed one of these days, Alastor. Anyway – this necktie also makes your complete get-up a bit more formal, yet it still _leans_ towards the casual side of things. You’re still relatively young, after all, in spite of your dreadful, _dumb_ old-man-clothes. Oh, also, I hope you will forgive me the lack of anything too eye-catching in your attire – but do keep in mind that _Charlie’s_ the one who should shine like a star during the party. Not _you_.”

I smiled. “That’s alright, I _want_ Charlie to shine. She _needs_ to shine. It’s her night.”

“My oh my.” Rosie forgot about her role as a professional seamstress for a bit and I saw her giving me a mocking smile, right over my shoulder. “You _do_ love her so, don’t you, Alastor?”

“Goodness, what tipped you off?” I sneered. “The subtle flirting? The way I talk about her? The obvious comments on marriage?” 

Rosie pretended like she hadn’t heard my sarcastic response and hummed. “Must be nice, getting married into Hell’s wealthiest and most powerful family…”

“Ha ha! Oh Rosie, **I couldn’t care less about her family**.”

“Hm.” Rosie – a bit paler than usual – clacked her tongue and for a tense moment, it looked like she was going to say more about the matter. But she didn’t, and she instead made me focus on the final bit of the new clothes I was wearing: the dark pants. 

“Now I _do_ like your long legs,” she babbled, tapping her face as she studied said legs. “They’re slim, refined and look _masculine,_ even if there’s barely any muscle in them at all. So I think a well-tailored, close-fitting pair of raisin-black pants would be perfect for your slim posture. It also kind of stresses your rumored ‘elite’ backside, thanks to the waistcoat.”

I nodded, giving myself one good, final look-over. “Fair enough! As long as you think Charlie will like it, I’ll like it as well. How do I look?”

“You look _fragile,_ Alastor.”

Rosie’s sudden, cold comment was shot at me like a bullet, fired in a completely silent, sacred room. It sliced through the already heavy air and forced my easy, relaxed smile into a wider, less legitimate one as I slowly turned around to face her. I narrowed my eyes.

“Oh ho, _do_ I now?”

“Yes, you do.” Rosie kept looking at me, her smile as rigid as always. “Fragile and weakened. Why, I hardly recognize the oh so very fearsome Radio Demon anymore. He has switched places with this homely, love-struck _fool_ I happen to be talking with right now. Has playing house with the princess softened you _that_ much, Alastor dear? Are you planning on making your own little family with her? Will you change _diapers_ in the near future? Tuck your children into bed with a cute little bedtime story?”

I laughed lightheartedly and put my hands on my back. “Ah, well, I’m not so sure about all of that! Especially the last bits – my dearest Rosie, please understand that making a family takes two and I’m not going to make any decisions on that matter on my own. I will definitely discuss this with my beloved Charlie later, though.”

Rosie looked conflicted and on guard. It probably helped that both my shadow as well as my demonic black tentacles were currently surrounding her and making sure the crone couldn’t make any abrupt movements without my black helpers instantly responding to even the slightest twitch of limbs.  
  
“Do you have **something to say to me, _dear?_** _”_ I hissed, my sizzling and crackling radio screeches messing up the atmosphere and disrupting my voice, while Rosie didn’t say anything.

She was weaker than I was. Even now, she still was so very, so _laughably_ weak. And she knew this all too well. So, taken aback, Rosie straightened her back and collected what was left of her poise.  
  
“Ah ha ha, I was just _curious_ is all, Alastor! I’m your good _friend_! Dearie me, I would never even _dream_ about attacking you once I’m sure you’re at your most vulnerable and all the fun tragedy is over!”

It was a very offhanded, strangely _endearing_ way of threatening me. That Rosie! I had to stop myself from cracking up in amusement, even if the ‘fun tragedy’-part confused me a little. 

So instead of berating her, I simply replied to her statement with a content nod.

“Of _course_ you won’t kill me! Why would you? You wouldn’t like to destroy your only chance to finally get some well-earned Royal recognition for your dresses and beautiful handiwork, now would you?”

She made big eyes and flushed, looking overwhelmed, like a wild animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

I snickered and made my way over to where Rosie was – oh my, but she had made quite some _space_ between the podium and the other side of the room, now, hadn’t she? It didn’t matter: I briskly kept approaching her until I could decently tower over her.

“Let me tell you, my dear: you’re in _luck_! Charlie seems to _like_ you, as she seems to automatically like _everybody_ with as much as a pulse, a face and a criminal record – bless her good, righteous heart. Perhaps she’ll even let you design and tailor her wedding dress! What am I saying – she might even make you her _personal dresser_! Wouldn’t that be _swell_?”

Rosie stopped gritting her pearly white teeth in silent frustration to wheeze softly, looking up at me. For a moment, even her smile completely disappeared from her gray face and she seemed to be absolutely dumbfounded. 

“Y-yes. Yes that _would_ be swell.”

“That’s what I figured!”

“Oh dear.” The demonic woman breathed in and out excitedly and started fluttering her hands in front of her face. “Oh mercy me. Would – would she let me?”

“Naturally! You heard how enthusiastic she was about your work, didn’t you? The princess is a _big_ Rosie-fan! And I’ll be more than happy to support her decision to hire you!”

“Oh my goodness, then—!”

“ _However_.” I bent forwards, cowering Rosie even further against the wall right behind her, and extended my – left, unhurt – hand towards her, grinning almost apologetically. “Before we hire you, I think I may need to make some… _premeasurements_ this time, first.”

Rosie stared at my hand for a while. Her black-holes-for-eyes then climbed up, seeking contact with mine. I could see some wetness appearing in them and she sobbed gleefully, coyly covering her mouth with a few of her fingers.  
  
“O-oh dear, Alastor… you’re going to make a deal with little old me? Heavens, am I really _that_ much of a thread to you…?”

“Rosie, would I ever _joke_ about making deals?”

She laughed, which sounded like a hiccup, and grabbed my eerily glowing hand, not even waiting for me to tell her what the deal was all about. 

“I-I’m just so _flattered_ – I never thought you’d think so _highly_ of me… I thought I was nothing but a lackey to you!”

I hummed indistinctively. “Don’t sell yourself too short now. Let’s not forget you tortured our mutual friend Bob for _days_ back then – probably even _killed_ him if I hadn’t freed him from your diligent fingers! Also, you _did_ kind of leave me to bleed to death in that lovely dungeon of yours. I was very fortunate to somehow get out of there myself, otherwise I’d have been a dead man!”

“Ah ha ha, oh yes, I did do that!~”

“Yes you did! Ha ha ha! _Yes you did_.”

“Should I be worried about this deal, though?” Rosie got a worried frown in-between her eyes as she watched my hand shake hers.  
  
“Oh Rosie, Rosie, _Rosie_!” I chuckled, charmed by her reaction, and let go of her hand. “You silly goose – don’t act like it’s such a big deal! This contract I’m making with you only makes sure you won’t try to directly or indirectly kill me, starting from the moment Charlie appoints you as her personal fashioner. Oh – and just in case the going gets even tougher for you, you’ll have a place to stay. Right _here_ in this hotel. Just - make sure to avoid room 106. That is all, my dear!”

Rosie gaped at me. “You knew about the bankruptcy, Alastor?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I… I’m… you saved me.”

“Still haven’t got the _slightest_ idea.” I wanted to continue making these kinds of cheeky comments, but then I heard a knock on the door, and my heart _soared,_ right on cue. I quickly glanced into the direction the knock came from, just for a moment. “Oh, there she is now! Will you excuse me for a moment, Rosie dear – I need to gaze at my precious Charlie in your lovely dress and smooch her beautiful person _senseless,_ before… oh. Oh no. Please dry your eyes, my friend. There’s a reason why a smile suits you better!”

I grinned teasingly at Rosie, who turned her tearful face away from me.

“O-oh mercy me,” she stammered with a broken smile, quickly pulling out a light-blue handkerchief out of her sleeve, “don’t – don’t mind me, now! Go on then – go and take a look at your fiancée, dear, I’ll just… stay put!”

Instead of saying anything else, I distantly, yet gently patted my friend’s shoulder with my microphone stand a couple of times before heading towards the door. I was more than ready to grab my wonderful lover – no, _fiancée_ – by the arms and pull her flush against my chest, where she _should_ be, and then I’d spoil her sweet, soft lips with as many desperate kisses as she would allow me to give her.

And _then_ I’d look at her dress.

I always had my priorities set straight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There once was a vain emperor who spent most of the empire’s expense matters on extremely luxurious clothing. One day, two swindlers sneak into the capital city. They hear about the spend-happy Emperor and decide to pretend they’re a couple of high-class weavers. They offer to supply the naïve ruler with magnificent clothes that are invisible to those who are ‘too stupid’ or ‘too incompetent’. The Emperor hires them on the spot and the weavers set up their looms, getting themselves ready to ‘work’.  
> A few days pass. The weavers are frequently visited by the Emperor’s officials and the Emperor himself, who come in to check on their progress. The looms are always empty, naturally, but each person that comes to check lies and pretends to see the most beautiful clothes, because they don’t want to be seen as idiots. Eventually, the weavers announce that the Emperor’s suit is finished – and they ‘dress’ him. Feeling proud and pretty, the Emperor then decides to parade around the whole city!  
> First, nothing happens: the very uncomfortable townspeople don’t want to look like morons and tell each other how nice their butt-naked Emperor looks. But the charade is finally ended when a kid pipes up, yelling that the Emperor is wearing nothing at all! By the time everybody realizes the weavers played them all for fools, the swindlers have long left the city. And the Emperor himself? He keeps his head up high – and finishes his tour around the city, not giving a damn about his nakedness. 
> 
> Hans Christian Andersen based this fairy tale on a story from a medieval, Spanish collection of short stories, written by various authors (like Aesop). However, the tale was also partly inspired by a childhood memory of his: he and his mom once went to meet the Danish king and upon seeing the king, he apparently blurted out: ‘But he’s just a normal guy!’, embarrassing his mom and making bystanders laugh out loud.


	18. The Midas Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, things in the Netherlands are... slowly getting better again, but I've got yet to see it, in all honesty. I'm not convinced yet.  
> For example, my school's principal was on the verge of death for a few weeks. Fortunately, he survived the virus and is back at school again these days, but he told me he's never been so sick before. It's unnerving to hear, since this is a (normally) healthy, middle-aged man we're talking about. Also, one of my classes (consisting of 25 students in total) had to stay at home for a week because two students in it apparently had Covid.  
> As for me - I'm still okay, miraculously enough, despite… everything, just like my family and friends! But man - it's like it's creeping closer every day. Brrrrr! Better not think about it too much!^^;;; 
> 
> How about another nice work of art made by [Chisena](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt), just because it's so drop-dead gorgeous and was subtly-linked to a certain party that's going to happen in this fic? Check it out [here](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1327241338685800449)! <3 <3 <3
> 
> In this chapter, we follow Lilith around as she prepares herself (and Lucifer) for the party. There are three guests roaming around the palace she needs to keep in check, though…  
> (Also, yes, I know I keep you waiting, but here's promising you Charlie and Al WILL get to the palace/party in the next chapter!)

I think I had been staring at the picture and the attached message Charlie had sent to me for at least two straight hours now, but I was alright with that. I was _more_ than alright with that – I didn’t mind staring at the first hopeful signs of my daughter _maybe_ opening up to me again for two _more_ hours, if that would mean things would get better between the two of us.

Feeling the relieved smile around my lips was actually starting to hurt my face a little, I relaxed the muscles in my face a bit more and sat back in my sofa. I moved my stiffened shoulders and joints, letting them pop and crack, before, once more, focusing all of my attention to the digital photo Charlie had sent to me. This was an important moment, I knew that very well. The moment Charlie had given me a sign of life, out of her very own accord. Well – I _hoped_ it was out of her own accord. 

I felt the corners of my lips curl up again as I looked over the picture.

It really was a very nice picture.

There were three persons in it: first of all, a demoness/seamstress/dressmaker/businesswoman named Rosie, who owned that one establishment I heard people talk about every now and then. Rumor had it that her business wasn’t doing quite as great as it used to. Then there was Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon and my daughter’s current beau. And, finally, squeezed in-between the two of them – Charlie, my lovely little apple beignet. 

She looked absolutely _stunning_ in that delicate, pink dress she was wearing.

It didn’t look like a very complicated design, but upon closer inspection, I saw all kinds of details. The skirt-part of Charlie’s dress was made of different, light shades of sparkling pink tulle. The front side of the half-long, nicely-folded-and-pleated skirt was a bit shorter than the backside, and the garment floated around Charlie’s pale legs like she was surrounded by the softest, most lovely clouds. The body of the dress was a slightly darker shade of pink – the dress blurred and blossomed from the dark shade of pink into the fluffier, lighter shades below the upper half. Her waist was adorned by subtle silver and pink threads and details that very nicely swirled around her curves, accentuating them. The front of the top seemed a bit asymmetric, a cute, rebellious choice to go with – and Charlie’s shoulders were completely bare.

My treasured little girl! How _pretty_ she looked!

…my, did her breasts get slightly bigger since the last time I saw her? Charlie _certainly_ had an impressive bosom going on. You could crack walnuts between those melons.

Well, in any case… 

My daughter was _spectacular._ I could tell she hadn’t even done her hair or make-up yet in this picture, and she also looked a little lost, with that awkward little smile – but she was also _brimming_ with energy and happiness. Oh, she already was the most _gorgeous_ thing of this idiotic party Luci was throwing! I felt a sudden rush of motherly triumph wash over me and I sighed contently. 

Then, my eyes automatically trailed down to the message Charlie had written below the picture again.

_“Hi mom. Just in case you wondered what I will be wearing tonight: it’s this dress I’m wearing in the picture. Rosie made it – Rosie is that woman standing next to me, by the way. The **left** side of me, not the **right** side. That’s Al. You know. The guy you and dad hate so much. I’m going to fuck his brains out tonight. I hope the party will be fun.”_

Wasn’t she just _adorable_?

Unwittingly, my insatiable eyes wandered back up, to the depictions of the other persons in the photograph. I couldn’t be bothered with paying too much attention to that Rosie-woman next to her, but I suppose she seemed to be delighted to be in my daughter’s presence. I wasn’t sure what to think of Rosie, but if Charlie believed it was alright to spend time with her, I’d trust her judgement on this one. 

Alastor on the other hand, who, as speculated, was stationed on the other side of Charlie, _did_ manage to capture my attention. He had one of his demonic hands (possessively? Protectively?) clasped around my precious apple beignet’s waist – and as always, even in a mere picture like this one, the radio fiend _oozed_ a natural air of superiority and extreme _arrogance_ as he did so. However, I had to admit he had his gaze directed at my daughter, and he looked at her like she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Honestly, hadn’t Rosie been in the picture as well, one could easily mistake this photo for one of those gushy, just-married-couple pictures.

…they _did_ make a handsome couple, I had to say. 

I chuckled and looked at the blinking little bar below Charlie’s comment. My smile started to turn into a frown. I had to say _something_ now. I couldn’t ogle my daughter’s picture and message for two hours and _not_ reply to her… but I was concerned about what to say. Meaningful conversations weren’t my strongest suit, _especially not_ when I tried having them with my very own flesh and blood, ironically enough. I had to think this through carefully, before I’d send something that would unintentionally hurt or insult Charlie.

After yet another ten minutes of writing and rewriting, I had typed a message. It wasn’t half bad, if I may say so myself. In my message, I even went as far as to reply to most, if not _all_ of Charlie’s remarks. It went like this:

_“Greetings, my dear daughter. You look very lovely. I don’t care about Rosie. And though I still think very little of him, I’m willing to accept your terrible choice for a boyfriend. Fuck your boyfriend. I look forward to tonight. Love, mon.”_

Perfect.

See? It helps to _stop_ and _think_ about wording and the tone you try to achieve in your note for a bit, before just mindlessly sending out a message into the great wide open! Truly, there wouldn’t be as many miscommunication issues in this hellhole if _everybody_ thought about their written memos as hard and as profoundly as I did.

With a convinced nod, I pressed ‘send’ and put the device down.

Soon enough however, I realized I had made a _grave_ mistake and hastily sent another, urgent message after the first one:

_“I meant to say ‘love, mom’ at the end. Not ‘love, mon’. Just so you know. Until we speak again this evening, sweetie.”_

I breathed out. Close call right there! To think just what grisly misunderstandings could have developed, hadn’t I corrected that crucial little error I made!

I wanted to put the telephone device aside for a moment and call for a maid, to inform if the dressing room was ready to use yet and to ask what Luci was up to – but then I heard a cute _ping_ -sound, hinting me that Charlie had read my message and even _replied_ to me already.

 _This_ soon?!

A bit anxious, I peeked at the screen.

_“You’re unbelievable, mom.”_

Hmm. Was this a satisfactory or a bad reply? I couldn’t tell. Instead of worrying about it though, I quickly sent her a new digital message back.

_“You look really happy in that picture, Charlie.”_

_“I am!”_ came the swift response. _“I’m glad it shows. :-)”_

A little picture of a yellow, smiling face! I had heard about those legendary things – seeing one of these meant that this was a _very_ satisfactory answer, most certainly!

I sent back: _“Did you send this picture to daddy as well? You know your father: he’ll cry the prettiest ugly tears once he sees how beautiful you look.”_

 _“No.”_ A curt reply. Watch it now, Lilith.

 _“Why not?”_ I wanted to know.

_“You KNOW why not, mom. He’ll react even less understanding than you.”_

What did she mean, ‘even less understanding’? I wanted to ask her, but since I suspected I had already said something that had rubbed her the wrong way (despite all of my valiant efforts – there was still so much I had yet to learn), I now felt even less compelled to try and reason with her.

Somewhat deflated, I sent her the following: _“Can I at least show the picture you send to me to him? Would that be okay?”_

There was a suspiciously long pause before Charlie gave me her answer.

_“I’m not stopping you.”_

This was most likely the best reply I could expect from my daughter at this point, so I didn’t press on and simply wished her a lovely afternoon, reminded her to put up her hair this evening, since that made her look more sophisticated/Royal Princess-y and less like this ‘tired and dull hotel manager needs more coffee’-type she was slowly becoming, and ended the conversation with sending her all of my love.

_“K thanks mom.”_

I rewarded myself with a little pat on the shoulder as I put away my mobile phone after this last message. Yes, it had been a shaky talk with Charlie and I’m sure things could have gotten better, but I was happy I had at least managed to successfully end this fragile, digital conversation with my daughter on a semi-positive note.

I was making progress!  
  


**III  
  
**

After having sent Charlie my last reply, I went to look for Lucifer. However, that turned out to be more of a chore than I had expected it to be. I couldn’t find the man _anywhere_ – not even in his personal quarters (with which I meant his heavily-ignored work office and his relaxation room, or, as he put it, his Ultra Kingly Game Room™, where he usually was, throwing sharp darts at a round target board that had a picture of his enemies pinned up against it). He wasn’t in any of the other chambers in the palace either, or so one of the servants came to tell me, so I found myself being stumped. 

Now, where _was_ that Luci…?

Honestly, one would think the important host of a big and superior Royal Party would spend a bit more time inside of the castle to actually _plan_ and _arrange_ the right rooms and thingamajigs for the festivities, but the only beings I saw frantically working on the organization of the ball and everything around it, were our diligent maids and butlers. They were so fired up about tonight’s party – it was such an _inspiring_ sight to behold! 

…I mean, yes, I know I had informed them that I’d gently twist their heads and limbs from their torso’s if they failed to make this happening a great success and I heavily suspected that me holding a few of their loved ones hostage was fairly motivational to them as well, but _still._

Very inspiring! Very inspiring indeed. Maybe I’d even compliment them later. 

Or not. It seemed like they were following the strict and well-prepared instructions from some mysterious red papers everybody was scurrying around with, so perhaps they were just a bunch of lazy sinners that only did the grunt work. 

Of course, many other, more interested persons would undoubtedly become curious or suspicious about the origins of the red papers and would want to find out what they were all about… but fortunately, I was _not_ one of those people. What a _drag_ that would have been. No no – I had more important things to worry about than some dumb stationary.

Like my nails. Would I paint them black or purple for this evening’s party? 

Ahh, but anyway.

As I wandered around the palace’s corridors, still clutching my telephone and still having no luck with finding my dainty pipsqueak of a husband, I happened to walk into the living room. 

Surely, Raphael was there, sitting contently on the couch with his hand placed inside of a strange book with fishermen pictured on them, but Michael, Gabriel and Lucifer were nowhere to be seen. 

Upon hearing me enter the room, he instantly shut his book and turned his head into my direction. “Hello Lilith.”

Once again, his unnerving ability to _immediately_ recognize the person that came close to him startled me a little. Raphael looked a lot like my dear husband, but his air and natural poise were more calm and subdued. Furthermore, he was rather boring-looking for an Archangel: he neither had the cute red cheeks nor the toothy grin Lucifer had and his blonde hair was nonchalant and uninspired, in comparison to Luci’s loopy locks. Even the snow-white, great Angel wings attached to his back seemed to be less impressive than those of Michael and Gabriel. 

Oh, and he also was completely blind and unable to open his eyelids.

“Raphael.” I hesitated for a minute, but decided to approach the serenely-smiling Archangel anyway with a couple of small steps. “Do you happen to know where Lucifer is? I need to show him this picture.”

I must have still been a bit rattled because of him instantaneously recognizing me, because I was daft enough to actually ‘show’ him the picture on my phone’s screen. I was quick to realize this and wanted to correct my mistake and apologize, but Raphael was already getting up from the couch.

“A picture you say!” Raphael laughed and maneuvered himself around the many golden and black furniture pieces around the large sofa. While he did walk noticeably _hard_ into a saloon table with a rather gigantic vase on top of it once (even breaking the vase’s lid and making things a little bit awkward), I still found it pretty perplexing he was able to work his way around the room with relative ease. He eventually held still right in front of me and reached out a white hand towards the mobile device. Lifting a single finger, Raphael’s vocal chords quavered in surprise as soon as his digit connected to the screen.

“Oh my stars! Is that you and Lucifer’s darling _Charlemagne_ in the middle? What a beautiful woman little Charlotte has become! I have only met her once, when she was a mere baby… but oh, it seems like she takes a lot after her father! How _lovely_! You must be a very proud mother!”

I cracked a distant, disdainful smile at him. Raphael could see through touch, I now understood. How wonderful. 

Pardon my harsh words, but out of all of Luci’s odd siblings, Raphael probably peeved me the _most,_ with his distressing blind-man-sees-(almost)-all-routine. He was nice enough, probably the nicest Archangel of all, and even a bit clumsy… but to me, the guy was just too – _insightful_ of everything. I couldn’t help but be wary of him.

I pulled the hand holding my phone back. “So did you happen to see your brother or not?”

Raphael chuckled. “Of course I did not _see_ him!”

“Right. Because you’re… okay. I suppose I deserved that.” I cast my eyes up to the ceiling and sighed. “Well, then I guess it’s no use asking you where he is.”

“Oh but I _know_ where he is!” Raphael’s modest smile grew bigger, big enough to partly cut his face in two unequal halves. “He is playing outside, with Gabe and Mike. I stayed here because I cannot see, and that would be inconvenient for the activity Luci is doing right now.” 

I looked at him, very confused. “Are you seriously telling me he's outside - _playing_?”

“That is what I just said, yes.”

“With Gabriel and Michael?”

“Indeed! He is making pitfalls.”

“I— _what_?”

“It is the truth! You know I cannot lie. Come see for yourself if you do not believe me.” The Archangel beckoned me to follow him to the nearest window and tried to gesture outside – but instead _violently_ smacked his hand against the stone wall beside of it.

As Raphael uttered a strangled cry of pain and cradled his hurt hand, I looked outside. And sure enough – there Luci was, proudly marching around with smudged clothes, unkempt hair and an enormous, muddied shovel in his hands. There were several comically obvious and poorly disguised pitfalls dug in the pathway and the area behind him. His two Angelic family members, who were strolling next to either side of him, looking very confused and more than a little amused because of their abandoned brother’s silly antics.

Lucifer himself was having a good time, in all honestly. It was clear to see that he was very excited to finally be able to interact with his siblings. Naturally with Gabriel (slightly bigger, slightly more confident, slightly more carefree), since ’Gabe’ had always been one of his favorite brothers. But even Michael, the stern, tall, muscular one that had gotten him locked out of Heaven in the first place, got a few small laughs out of him every now and then.

I felt a pleased smile appearing on my face and I leaned on the windowsill, taking in the lovely family scene happening just outside. Oh, would you _look_ at my small, bouncy apple pie, all happy and chatty because of his Angelic brethren! It was such a rare thing to see… and it proved to me that blood was thicker than water – even if it was such weird, complicated blood, in Lucifer’s case. 

Remembering how long it had been since the last time I had seen Charlie in the flesh, I found this a very comforting thought.

In any case… Lucifer had been heartbreakingly stressed out and wound up this morning, because of his Heavenly siblings’ suspected arrival. They had informed us only yesterday that they’d descend and honor us Hell-beings with their overwhelming presence at the party this evening – and Lucifer had been restless ever since (which had made my darling small gremlin unforgivingly _adorable,_ but that’s a given).

In all fairness, I actually _hadn’t_ expected Raphael, Gabriel and Michael to come visit Lucifer’s bizarre party. They probably didn’t think much of him and most likely had more urgent matters to attend to, I had assumed… but it turned out that the brothers actually had been _more_ than willing to leave God’s Paradise and look up their family in Hell. 

Which was nice and all, but it did make me wonder: why did Lucifer need to invite _them,_ of all beings?

“Alastor,” was all that Lucifer had grunted through his teeth as an answer, evidently _raging_ because of the helplessness of his situation, right before he had dialed the Heavenly phone number of one of the Archangels.

Ah. So Alastor was behind it again, I had realized.

Alastor was behind a _lot_ of things lately… and few of them were _good._

  
**III  
  
**

While I had little to no trouble accepting Alastor as Charlie’s special someone – since he made her happy and seemed to be very serious about her, too – the Radio Demon, unknowingly, was getting more and more on Lucifer’s nerves every day. The only thing that withheld Lucifer from storming Charlie’s hotel, _hauling_ Alastor outside and brutally slaughtering him in front of all of her sinful tenants, was our lovely daughter _herself._  
  
And she didn’t even know it. 

After surviving meeting up with Hakim, Alastor had proceeded to blackmail me and Lucifer: as long as we played along with the scheme he had up his red sleeves – we didn’t know what kind of scheme this was, by the way – he wouldn’t tell Charlie we had originally planned to kill him. This, _naturally,_ also meant that we couldn’t go for a second assassination attempt. For obvious reasons.

Lucifer had begrudgingly agreed to Alastor’s terms – it wasn’t like he had much choice, if he cared about Charlie at all. However, ever since Hakim had mysteriously _evaporated_ from Hell, after that doomed confrontation with Alastor in Hyde Park, Lucifer’s already fractured and heedless relationship with our sensitive and headstrong daughter hadn’t made a turn for the better. Quite the _opposite,_ really. 

I worried about that. 

Oh yes. 

I worried that Charlie already knew something hadn’t been _right_ with the meeting between Alastor and Hakim. The Radio Demon returning from the park with several Angel spears stuck deep into his bleeding body and almost dying in her arms _probably_ hadn’t helped matters, either. While Lucifer, Alastor and I all kept telling my sweet apple beignet that we had nothing to do with Alastor’s near-death-experience and that it was all nothing but a series of _very_ unfortunate events, I feared it was all for naught.

She _knew._

She most likely _knew._

And _that_ was why she had refused to seek contact with me and Lucifer for such a long time.

Charlie seemed to be slightly more forgiving towards me than her father – perhaps because I had been the one to ultimately _sabotage_ Luci’s plan, by sending the Royal Doctors to the hotel to save Alastor’s life? Could be. After all, let’s not forget she had eventually decided to give me a call a few weeks ago… and even today, _I_ had been the lucky parent she had messaged. _Not_ Lucifer.

No – all that Lucifer got from Charlie was an _icily_ cold shoulder.

And that didn’t have a good effect on him _or_ the ‘deal’ he had made with Alastor. 

Frankly spoken – if nothing happened soon, things were bound to escalate. I felt it would. This threat… it was dangling in the air like an overripe, rotten piece of fruit hanging from a tree’s branch, impatiently waiting for the right moment to fall and mess everything up.

I wonder if I would do anything about that, if that were to happen.

Oh, I doubted it. I loved my squishy, adorable tiny Angel man _dearly_ and I had no intention to stop him from slaughtering Alastor, if that made him happy – and although I didn’t exactly _mind_ Alastor, I, too, still didn’t like Charlie’s lover all _that_ much. Also, it was just too much of an effort to stop a rotten fruit from falling. What if I got dirty? I didn’t want to get dirty.

So – I’d better try and do something _now,_ before my aloof, stale personality and my horrible, lazy indecisiveness would cause me to lose the last vulnerable, puny shreds of respect and love my dear, foolishly-idealistic daughter still had kept intact for me, somehow. 

  
**III**

  
I had thought it would be hard to get rid of Raphael, Michael and Gabriel in order to speak with Lucifer alone, but I was proved wrong by them: after all of them had reunited in the palace’s entrance hall (and had _mercilessly_ riddled the entire marble floor with brown, nasty traces of mud and sand, like the _brutes_ they were), the three Archangels said they didn’t mind leaving the palace for a while. They also, once again, confessed to both me and Lucifer that they had been waiting for an opportunity to do some sight-seeing in the capital city of Hell anyway. That _that’s_ why they had bothered to travel down to Hell in the very _first_ place.

“But you also came here because of my _rad_ party, right?” Lucifer had asked them with a broad grin, although one could easily detect a hopeful tone to his loud voice. He even made some childishly cheesy finger-guns at them. 

Michael was too serious to react to that gesture and just exhaled audibly. 

Raphael literally couldn’t see what his brother was doing and kept massaging his hand. 

But Gabriel, thankfully enough, had the decency to clutch his chest, gurgle a death-cry and dramatically fall down on the floor.

I slowly shook my head at that. This family was so _weird._

“Because of your party? Oh absolutely,” Michael – the _biggest, broadest_ and most _intimidating_ brother of all – then finally responded to Luci’s question. “I wanted to see what a celebration in Hell looks like. I also wanted to know how my disowned brother is handling the many sinners here, and, most _importantly,_ I wanted to meet my niece. I would like to know how she is doing with her noble cause to redeem sinners.”

“Is that all?” Lucifer pouted.

His brother cocked his head judgmentally at Luci. “That reminds me: are you still against her plan to rehabilitate sinful souls? What an awful stance to take, Lucifer. You should _encourage_ her. That is what all fathers should do: _be there_ for their children and _support_ them and their dreams. It is _very_ important.”

Luci scoffed at that, swirling his pinky finger around in his ear. “Oh wow, sounds cool, Mike – maybe you should tell the Big Guy up there all about that.”

“Do not blame our Father for your own faults.”

“Ugh – _enough_ about Father already!” Lucifer snapped, making a wild, erratic swing with one of his arms. “Okay, so you’re here because of your own stupid curiosity how we do things here in Hell and because you’d like to meet my darling, holier-than-thou daughter. But isn’t there something else you’re forgetting? Or somebo—” 

“Well – I suppose I also wanted to try out Hell’s famous Spicy Lava Taco’s.” Michael gave his baffled brother a ridiculously thoughtful look. “Word on the street is they are to ‘sin’ for.”

“They are,” I confirmed, and watched Michael do a triumphant, yet silent little fist pump. 

“What about reconciling with your precious fallen brother?” Lucifer finally said, winking at his buffest brother and even playfully punching his insanely _humongous_ arm’s biceps, automatically _cracking_ his feeble knuckles in the process. Aww – wwwwwww _fuck_ that hurt – come on, Mikey-Mike! Don’t tell me you don’t feel like making up with me for wounding my buttocks, ditching me in Hell and fatally ruining my mental stability for once and for all! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

“I do not. I am only here because of the aforementioned arguments and the taco’s.” Michael stared his brother down with eerie, narrowed eyes. “Taco’s never tried to conquer Heaven.”

“Such dignified, humble food,” Gabriel nodded wisely.

“I think the wall broke my hand,” Raphael said to no one in particular.

Lucifer snorted, folded his arms together and gave Michael a nasty glare. “Jesus, are you _still_ not over me rebelling against Pops? Man, talking about holding a grudge! Yeah okay, I get that rebelling and gathering an entire army and attempting to overthrow Him wasn’t a very nice thing of me to do, boo hoo, bad Luci, bad, _bad_ Luci – but did you _really_ need to fucking _scar_ my damn ass and fling me out of Heaven for that little, _itty-bitty_ misstep, you haughty piece of Angel _shit_?”

His brother, not even a little bit impressed by Luci’s sudden rage, shrugged indifferently. 

“It could have been worse.”

“How! How could it have been _worse,_ Mike!”

“He could have scarred your face,” Gabriel helpfully pointed out.

Lucifer gasped, realization striking him hard. He gripped his cute face and fondled it fiercely. “Holy shit – you’re right! Had you marked my face, I’d have been _ugly_ – like _you_ guys! Damn, sure dodged a bullet there! Thanks Mike, for obliterating my ass instead!”

Michael nodded solemnly. “Anytime.”

I _really_ should stop rolling my eyes already, before one of them would pop out. But honestly – the longer I watched Lucifer interact with his otherworldly, Heavenly siblings, the more I appreciated not having any siblings for myself.

However, like I said before, Lucifer was happy to have them around, even _if_ this little quarrel had almost caused him to kick Michael in the face – and when the three Archangel brothers finally left the Royal palace to have a little tour around town, Lucifer even said to me – with an _uncharacteristically_ sorrowful facial expression – that he didn’t like that his brothers and he couldn’t meet up with each other more often.

“Why though? They’re all so very _weird,_ ” I bluntly told him (out loud this time) in return.

Luci seemed a bit hurt at this remark and made big, devastated puppy-eyes at me.

“But – _nice_ ,” I heard myself carry on. “Weird but nice. I suppose.”

His expression now spontaneously changed into a more elated one and he threw his arms around me. Since I was a lot bigger than him in every single, plausible sense of the word, Lucifer wasn’t able to fold his noodle arms around me all the way – so he went with plan B: he just took my hand and desperately smeared it against his face, as if it was made of the softest, most luxurious material ever.

Which it was.

“Oh! My _Queen!_ You sweet, ruthless, wonderful _dominatrix of my heart_! Such lovely words you spout with those luscious, _big_ lips of yours! Let me bestow your curvy legs with joyous smooches, now that we are alone at last, Lilith, my dark, majestic _bae_!”

“Go on right ahead,” I said, and so he did.

And then he did some more. 

And then things kind of escalated, but my plucky husband was lucky we were at least able to make it to the bedroom, before I’d let the sudden rush of blood to my loins get the better of me and do him right there in the hallway. 

  
**III**

  
“So tell me, angel face – why were you digging pitfalls in the castle's front yard?” I asked Lucifer a while later. I was feeling very satisfied, resting in bed like this, and I gently balanced my chin on my sinfully _perfect_ hand as I looked down on the sweaty, _handsome_ man lying next to me.

Lucifer looked up at me, his pupils finally thinning and his breathing calming down at last.

“Pitfalls? Those aren’t plain pitfalls I made, my sexy seductress – those are _death traps_!”

“Death traps,” I repeated, running a finger over his naked shoulder. “Of course they are death traps. Death traps for…?”

“For that Radio Deformity, of course!” Lucifer’s blissful glow was quick to disappear and change into a more malicious one. He sat up, suddenly becoming pointedly bigger than I was, the dark shade of his manly figure falling over me, his face hardening in an insane, strained grin that didn’t even have the teeniest hint of happiness in it.  
  
I bit the inside of my cheek. Oh _my._

“Tonight’s the night, my wondrous Queen,” Luci stated, wheezing a little. “And I’m _fully_ prepared, too. Tonight, **I will fucking end him**.”

The warm, eager heat that had been pooling inside of my lower body again instantly cooled off. An annoying lump in my throat formed instead, and no matter how many times I tried to swallow it, I couldn’t.

Was I too late?

Lucifer awaited my reaction. I noticed he was, judging on his tense, stiff features and the fact he didn’t move an inch. He needed me to say something supportive. I knew he was waiting for me to say something he wanted me to say – to form an opinion he could live with. So my thoughts did their best to collect themselves and fanatically searched my head’s gray masses for a way out that would be the most preferable one. In the end, I just reached for my cell phone, looked up Charlie’s picture and showed it to my quivering love. 

“Look Luci – it’s Charlie. She’ll be wearing this dress tonight.”

Lucifer took the device from my hands and ogled the displayed photograph on the screen for the longest time. I sat upright and put my hair in an enormous, unstable bun while I neutrally watched Lucifer’s angry, callous face become a little bit softer. That gave me hope – Alastor was in the picture as well after all, but that didn’t seem to ignite a spiteful reaction out of him. For _now,_ at least.

“She looks lovely, don’t you think?” I asked Luci, touching his arm ever so slightly. “Our little apple beignet. Lovely and happy.”

“She does,” Lucifer admitted.

“You see?” I smirked, a bit relieved. “She really did her best to look nice for your party, apple pie.”

“She didn’t sent me anything.” He sighed deeply.

My heart fell and my smile faded. “I suppose she didn’t, no.”

“Ah well. That proves it, doesn’t it?” Lucifer smiled a very unconvincing grin and returned the phone to me. “Whelp! Charlotte _definitely_ hates me, no doubt about it. After everything I have done for that… that red _motherfucking **dipshit**_ in order to mend our fantastic father-daughter bond, she still can’t stand me. I even adjusted this whole damn party to his fucking conditions, _what the crap is that all about, Lili_ – but to no avail. No matter what I do, Charlotte doesn’t even want to send me a tiny little message. Not even a meme. Not even a fucking _meme,_ Lilith! And _everyone_ knows your kid has no respect for you if she doesn’t share memes with you! So you tell me – what’s left of Charlotte for me to lose?”

My already delightfully sore body ached some more upon hearing that and I enclosed my long fingers around the soft sheets of our bed.

 _You will lose the last, stubborn bit of her good heart that still sees you and thinks of you as a loving father,_ I wanted to say. But instead, the words that stumbled out were: “She’ll never forgive you.”

I wasn’t sure if that was the better choice, per se.

Lucifer opened his mouth and barked out a loud, mocking laugh. He then suddenly crawled towards me on all fours, his thin orbs lit up like two red, ominous slits that pierced my eyes. It hurt to look at them – and at the same time, I simply couldn’t look away from them. His eyes were the windows of his very soul, and _god_ did I enjoy peeking down that empty, chilling void. Caught by surprise, I fell back onto the mattress, licking my lips, watching Luci’s every single move. 

“Of _course_ she will forgive me, Lilith! Eventually! Time will heal _all_ wounds, my awesome purple, horned amazon – and hell, who _knows_ just what crazy age we and Charlotte are able to reach! Maybe we’ll live for another couple of centuries! Maybe even a few millennia! _More_ than that! You think that after 100 000 000 years have passed, Charlotte will _still_ not have forgiven me for killing her disgusting, _lying_ scumbag of a lover? **_HA!_** Lilith – by then, she’ll have had so many more other lovers… all sinners and demons that can surely help her get over _one stupid puny piece of human waste_ , no biggie! He will be wiped out of her memories in no time! Or after a long time! Who cares? So she’ll stop talking to me for some years, maybe even decennia. Big deal! In the end, she _will_ start longing for her parents again, the _only_ factors in her life that are _constant_ – we both know she can’t find a decent, long-lasting partner here in Hell anyway! So everything will be _fine_ again. For sure!”

I knew that glint in his eyes. I recognized that strange, buzzing, vibrating emotion that came out of his throat. I felt that seething _hatred_ beaming off of him, almost burning me from merely being close-by it.

I closed my own eyes and reviewed everything that had been said so far from the inside of my head. Well, I was too late to stop him from executing this bound-to-fail-horribly-plan. I had lived with him for too long to foolishly believe I could talk this terrible ploy he had out of his overheated brain, and going against his wishes would – well, it would make him very sad. I didn’t want to make my lovely apple pie sad – wasn’t inevitably losing our daughter tragic enough for him already? 

A sad Lucifer would also most likely destroy all of Hell. We wouldn’t want _that_ to happen, now.

So I had no other choice but to accept that Lucifer really was going to try and kill Alastor tonight. 

Emphasis on _try._

Seeing a little dot of light in the pitch-black darkness that had started to rapidly enclose itself around Alastor and my lovely apple beignet’s happiness, the little and big gears inside of my mind started to twist and turn, as I rolled against my smaller, pale-skinned husband and affectionately pinched his red cheeks. Lucifer always liked it when I stretched his face like that – and yes, even now, he calmed down and happily let me caress his cheeks.

“We should get ready for the party, angel face,” I then said. “Now that your brothers are sightseeing outside of the palace and we have passionately exchanged not only bodily fluids, but also foreboding murder plans to potentially alienate our only child even further from us with one another, I sure am feeling a lot more energized.”

“Uh – bwreally?” he bumbled through my cheek-rubbing-actions. “I had bwought you wouldn’t bwreally like my bwplan.”

“I indeed didn’t like your plan at first, but your enthusiasm and misplaced optimism surely convinced me. So…” 

I tenderly _booped_ him on the nose and shot a seductive smile at him – the same I had used to utterly demolish any last resolve my ex-husband had before giving himself to me… and also the same I had used to ravish Lucifer, the first, faithful time I had laid my eyes on him. 

“…tell your blatantly beautiful wife _all about_ your wicked plans and death traps, Luci.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King Midas saves a drunken satyr, who happens to be the old schoolteacher of the Greek god Dionysus. Dionysus is so grateful for the King’s good deed that he tells Midas he may make a wish. Midas – a good, yet greedy man – doesn’t need to think for long and tells the god he’d like to power to change everything he touches into gold. Dionysus does his thing and then leaves, leaving the King to play around with his newfound power.  
> The King rushes outside and touches a twig – the twig instantaneously changes into gold. He turns towards the roses in the castle garden and brushes them all with his hand – POOF! – nothing but golden roses! Overjoyed, King Midas keep working his magic on everything that needs to be goldified, and when he’s finally satisfied, he calls for a huge feast to celebrate his incredible power. Unfortunately, Midas then discovers his golden touch has a big downside: when Dionysus gave him the power to change everything he touches into gold, he meant _everything_. So that includes food and drinks. The King starts to realize his wish may have been a big mistake… but not before things get even worse: at a certain moment, Midas’ daughter comes towards him, complaining about the scentless roses in the garden and asking for a comforting hug. The poor girl changes into gold as soon as Midas put his arms around her, positively horrifying the King.  
> Now Midas is officially fed up with his powers and prays to the god Dionysus desperately, pleading that he please takes his golden touch away. Dionysus appears and tells the King that he should wash his powers away with the water of the river Pactolus. Midas does just that and, in the end, is relieved from his golden touch.
> 
> Yet another myth written down by the Roman poet Ovid. The story of Midas actually continues for a while, since the king gets donkey’s ears in a subsequent myth and dies a rather depressing death… but that’s a myth for another time!


	19. The Frog Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire week, I'm having parent-teacher conferences. I don't mind doing those too much - especially not since we're doing all of those through online media-tools - but god, it costs me a lot of time and energy!^^;;;  
> Because I'm always free on Wednesday afternoons, I don't have any conferences today... but tomorrow and Friday, you bet I'll be having more. So if you have left a comment and you're wondering why my reply takes some time: it's because of the parent-teacher conferences! 
> 
> Praise the Heavens, because [Chisena](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt) went and made some BEAUTIFUL drawings of Lucifer's three Heavenly Brothers! 8DDDDDDDD They look so AWESOME! Check them out [here](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1331345781597503488)!
> 
> Well, you get what I promised: Alastor and Charlie finally arrive at the party! YES! Buttt. Uhm. You'll see. XDDDDDD  
> In any case, enjoy! <3 <3 <3

Alright Charlie – breathe, just _breathe_.

Everything should be alright.

Everything should go fine.

Everything should just feel like it was all going to be _okay_. Right? Right.

So then… then _why_ did I feel this tight, anxious tension rampaging around inside of my chest, with every swift and smooth second the limousine got closer to the Royal Palace? As if something terrible was going to happen. As if there was a _disaster_ about to strike, just waiting to happen. As if… Alastor and I wouldn’t return from the party the same way.

But that was just silly.

I looked out of the car’s window and bit down on my thumb’s nail, my free hand fidgeting with the glove the other one still needed to slip in.

I knew it – most likely – were my own nerves and insecurities whispering to me now, trying to get me down like they always did… but knowing _that_ didn’t mean that I was _impervious_ to my own mean words and quiet sneers all of a sudden.  
Also, it had been a while since the last time I had been at my parents’ place, after all – I didn’t know if I could… _handle_ them on their own turf, where they could easily look down on me and get themselves ready to smile pitifully – no, _condescendingly,_ even, at my ideals and beloved hotel.

Not to mention the way they’d treat Al. Would I be able to deal with _that_?

If mom’s frosty opinion on Alastor was anything to go by, he shouldn’t be expecting a very warm welcome. I knew my mother at _best_ didn’t think much of him – and that was just _mom_. I shuddered to actually take some time wondering how my _dad_ would feel about letting Al into his personal residence… what he would say to him… or maybe even _do_.

I saw a fold appear on my unclear reflection’s forehead, right there in the window, and gnawed down harder on my thumb’s nail. On that moment, as I sat in the white vehicle that would take me and Alastor to my parents’ place, I swore to myself that if they said as much as _one_ lousy word to or about Alastor, I’d turn around and get us the hell out of there. I would never look or come back again, no matter _how_ much they’d plead or beg me for forgiveness!

They had gotten away with too much already. No more of that anymore! I was fed up with it! I was—

“What is bothering you, my love?” Al suddenly spoke up. One of his hands found its way to mine and gripped it gently, making me unclench my stiff fist and release the glove I had been holding so rigidly a little more.

I let myself chuckle weakly, but I didn’t budge. “Oh – nothing, really! I’m just a bit… unsure about this whole evening and stuff.”

“Are you now.”

“Yeah...” I muttered, watching my counterpart’s face in the mirror fall some more. “I’m sorry, Al – even after all of your efforts in the last couple of weeks to (mentally) prepare me for tonight, I’m still feeling very… _queasy_ about that nonsensical party dad is throwing in honor of… well, _me_ , I guess. I just don’t know what he’s up to or what to expect of him. I feel like a wreck.”

“A wreck? _You_?” Alastor laughed like he had never heard anything funnier, although his laughter wasn’t as boisterous as usual. “My dearest, sweetest princess – come now, would you look at me?” 

A sulky ‘no’ was ready to leave my lips, but before I could say it out loud, I saw a black and red hand appear in the window, next to my reflection’s awaiting face. I then watched it fluently move in front of my eyes, felt the sharp, yet careful fingertips of his hand land on the base of my jaw, testing the waters. When I didn’t protest, he softly pressed the rest of his hand against my cheek. His hand was – cold, as his hand usual was whenever it touched me. It didn’t feel unpleasant though.

“Please look at me, Charlie.”

I could feel he scooted closer to me.

I sighed. Without using too much force, Alastor guided my face away from the limousine’s window, turning it further and further, until I was facing him. He offered me a small, contented smile upon seeing me answer his fixed stare with my own. His thumb rubbed comfortingly over my jawline and with his other hand, he took my own fingers away from my mouth and brought it closer to his face. I felt a sudden rush to the head when he placed a couple of kisses on top of it, his clashing eyes peeking at mine adoringly.

“A-Al,” I stammered.

After leaving a final kiss to the back of my hand, he raised his face. He didn’t say anything right away – he just looked at me. His eyes flitted over my flashy dress and naked shoulders, a loving, _proud_ smile never leaving his lips as he did so. While his hand on my face kept caressing my slightly heated-up skin, his gaze continued to admire my looks, my face, my _everything._ Finally, his eyes ended their thorough, careful examination when they met up with my own again.

“You don’t know how lovely you are.”

Unable to produce words at that, I just – carried on gaping at him, my cheeks blooming furiously and giving away how much I had unknowingly longed for that heartfelt compliment. I swallowed, tore my eyes away from him – before they got all teary – and looked down, at my hand holding the glove. Al wasn’t touching it anymore and clumsily, I began wringing said hand into the white, thin thing. Thanks to all of Al's sweet words, I felt a bit unstable, so it wasn’t easy getting it in.

Alastor watched me struggle for a few seconds, awfully amused by my rather hysterical way of putting on a glove, and took hold of my hand again as soon as my fingers had all found their way into the glove’s smaller openings.

“Allow me,” he murmured, as he started dragging up the glove’s sleeve. I wore opera gloves, reaching all the way from the wrist to the upper part of my arms, and I shivered when he calmly and so very _slowly_ rolled the silky fabric of the glove over my now-hypersensitive skin. He either didn’t see that I had goose bumps all over my arm or simply chose to ignore it, but that didn’t stop him from carrying on his _horribly_ suggestive touches, sluggishly brushing his icy fingers over my hot skin as more and more of my arm’s bare flesh disappeared into the long piece of fabric.

Oh my god, the steadily growing, _twitching_ feeling in the lower parts of my body was _so_ _inappropriate_ and I should be _so_ _ashamed_ and was it too late to tell him to just _jump_ me already? Seriously, I was _this_ close to _rip_ these bothersome pantyhose off my trembling legs, trap Alastor in-between them and sputter to him to please have his merry, _sexy_ way with me. I didn’t even care we were right in the back of the limousine and Husk (who was driving us) would be incredibly _disgusted_ by our stunt – nope, not at all, not when my burning desire for Al was flaring up like this.

All because Al had _rolled up my glove’s sleeve.  
_

 _God._ Looks like I had reached a new rock bottom.

“A-Al,” I mumbled again, my voice queasy and all over the place, and I put my – now decently gloved – hand on the middle of his chest, sneaking it into his snug waistcoat - just a few hesitant fingers at first... but soon enough, my entire hand followed. I felt his heart's beating picking up speed as I moved my hand right over it. Al made a muffled noise, pulled me closer and impatiently raised my face. I looked at him and half-expected him to say something flirty to me, but he wasted no time and brusquely connected our mouths together with a hard, firm kiss. Instantly swept from my feet like that, I leaned more into him and opened my mouth, wanting to deepen the kiss, taste more of him, enjoy more of him, feel his chilly hands disappear into the hidden folds of my dress and warm him up against my feverish body until he—

“No. Oh no. NO. Don’t you even fuckin’ _think_ about you, you damn horndogs – I just fucking _cleaned_ back there! **HEY!** ” 

I didn’t know what hit me first – Husk’s enraged yelling or Alastor’s (painfully _solid_ ) forehead, as the cat demon _yanked_ at the steering wheel and stopped the vehicle _so_ abruptly, I basically crashed right into Al and _smacked_ the both of us against the door behind him.

“ _Ouch_!”

“ _Ow_!”

My head hurt, but I was quick to adapt and I sat up straight away. Hurriedly, I began fixing my hair and dress, pulling up my top, all while grinning maniacally at Husk. Alastor restored his original posture as well, though he kept blushing and rubbing his hurt forehead. He also mumbled some things under his breath that could only have been curses (since his invisible audience uttered a few loud gasps and snickers). 

“H-hi Husk,” I heard my own high-pitched voice, _screeching_ through the embarrassing atmosphere inside of the car, “is… there anything the matter? Can we help you?”

Smooth, Charlie. _God._

Husk, leaning his arm over the front seat, raised an eyebrow at me sarcastically. “Oh yeah, you can help me, Princess… by _getting off Al’s dick_ , for starters, and _out of the car_ , before I fuckin’ _pop_ a damn _vein_!”

My heart (the poor thing _really_ wasn’t getting a single break today, now was it) leaped into my throat when I realized the true meaning of Husk's words. “Get out? You mean… are – are we there alread—”

“AND, while we're at it anyway, tell me you’re sorry for almost making me witness you bone that scrawny red bastard sweating bullets right there next to you!” Husk visibly shuddered, horrified by the mere thought of such an _atrocity_ alone. “ _Ugggghhh_ , seeing something _that_ unholy would’ve chucked my already screwed-up soul _straight_ into the Void, no fuckin’ questions asked.”

I lowered my head in shame and mumbled a quiet “sorry”.

Meanwhile, Alastor began to laugh out loud, although it sounded very unnatural and _way_ too wound up. “Ha ha ha! Now now, Husker! Don’t be so hard on—”

“Oh don’t even get me started on YOU, Mr. Fancy Flat Ass!” Husk squeezed his glowering eyes almost shut and stuck out a pointy finger/claw at him, effectively shutting Alastor up. “Aren’t you supposed to be a fuckin’ calm and collected and, huh, hmmm, now what’s the word – _**asexual** _gentleman, you goddamn nasty pervert? What’s gotten you all hot and bothered all of a sudden – can’t your dead dick handle a little make-up and a pretty dress on your lady?”

“Well.” Al coughed, obviously feeling a bit rattled, and I caught his eyes darting over me quickly before he continued. “Don’t overreact now, Husker! It was only a kiss.”

“ _Only a kiss_?” Husk made a face as if it was the most _despicable_ thing he had ever gotten wind of. “You fuckin’ _sucked her lips off_ , you _pig_!”

Al colored some more, his smile getting a chagrined undertone to it. “I’m sure it wasn’t _that_ —”

Husk interrupted him again. “What would you’ve done if you really _had_ started _mounting_ her, huh? Messin’ up her nice attire, just because you wanted to _get some_? There’s a fuckin’ _party_ she needs to go to! She needs to make an _impression_! You think she’d make a good impression on her old ma and pa – shit, you think she’d make a good impression on the damn _guests_ , entering the palace looking all flustered and fuckin’… fuckin’ _windswept,_ like some ragdoll? Did you fuckin’ forget about that _,_ Alastor?! They’d fuckin’ _laugh_ their asses off at Charlie! Everything would’ve been ruined and that would’ve all been _your fault_!”

Was I missing something? I blinked confusedly as I stared at the cat demon, while Al seemed to see the error of his ways. He frowned a little – just a little, mind you – and crushed his lips together until there was only a fine, upward shape left.

“You’re right, my dear old friend.”

“Of fuckin’ _course_ I am.” Husk hummed. “And?”

“And I – apologize for my… irksome behavior.”

“ _Irkso_ – fuckin' hell, talk _normally_ , you posing prick.” Husk clicked his tongue, then gestured at me. “Now also tell the princess you’re sorry.”

Al looked at me. I looked back, smiling sheepishly at him, pushing some of my long hair behind my back and tugging on a sagging glove’s sleeve.

He chuckled, gave me an affectionate, rare smile that I… that I actually _hadn’t_ seen all that often before, and shook his head.

“Oh, I most certainly _won’t_.”

…I could only flush stupidly at the teasing little comment and bit my lower lip in quiet, excited delight.

  
**CcC  
  
**

About five minutes later, we both looked on in silence as a _very_ disgruntled Husk _stepped up the gas_ and _raced away_ from the narrow pathway and the gigantic, overbearing garden he had dropped us off in. We could hear the shrieking of the tires even from a mile away, when we watched him making a sharp U-turn to the left and _barely_ avoided driving over a couple of startled sinners, digging through a garbage dumpster.

“We struck a nerve within the old fellow, I’m afraid. Now he’s late for his karaoke night – and that’s _unforgivable_!” Alastor eventually said, sniggering. But it didn’t sound like he was actually mocking his fuzzy friend. I watched Al’s face as it graced another, unusual soft smile, still looking in the direction Husk had left. I felt my own lips curling up as well and nudged him in the side.

“Husk really is your best friend, isn’t he?”

Finally, he looked at me again and nodded. “He truly is.”

Oh – he admitted it! A warm, fuzzy feeling gathered itself inside of me and I flashed a happy smile at him. Then I noticed his tie had gotten a bit crooked and I beckoned him to come a little closer, so that I could fix it.

More than happy to comply, Al put his arms on his back and bent towards me a little. As I took hold of his tie and adjusted it, I let out a soft, surprised chuckle when I felt him press a kiss to my forehead.

“Well then! While I have to admit that we… _definitely_ took it way too far back in the vehicle, I can see the activities we sneakily partook in still greatly improved your spirits, now didn’t they, hmm?”

He pinched my cheeks, wiggling an eyebrow at me.

“I think I told you before, didn’t I?” I smiled affectionately at him, seeking contact with his eyes again. “You always manage to make me feel better, Al.”

Alastor didn’t say anything to that, but his entire being did appear to _light_ _up_ in blissful satisfaction. His grin grew bigger and wider, and he lowered himself, until his face was at my face’s height. Wordlessly, I stared at him, laughing a little, waiting what he was going to do. Then he swayed some stray hairs out of my eyes, tilted my face and kissed me on the lips once more, letting his eyes close themselves, _savoring_ the moment. It was a chaste, kind kiss that I chased after, timidly touching his face as well with a gloved hand.

After the kiss, Al took my hand, gallantly put it around and on top of his arm and gave it a soothing little pat. Then we finally started walking down the long path that guided us to the Royal Palace, sparkling in the distance.

  
**CcC**

**  
** Picture an intimidating, historical, glimmering, neo-gothic-themed palace – _any_ intimidating, historical, glimmering, neo-gothic-themed palace of which you’re absolutely, 100% _sure_ a wealthy family of incredible importance must live in.

Now picture it in the colors of the darkest of black and the deepest, most disturbing kind of red.

 _That’s_ what the Royal Palace in Hell looked like.

It was an unsettling, imposing regal residence, with perfectly smooth, clean, high walls and gigantic, rectangle-shaped windows that occupied multiple floors. The building was big and broad, and its surfaces were carefully beautified with the most detailed decorations and bulges. Multiple stained glasses were built into the walls of the upper floors, every single one of them representing a biblical scene from the tale of how mom and dad supposedly met. Lots of apples, too.

It was a bit unnerving to approach the Royal Palace, because from a fair distance, it looked like it was just a huge, castle-formed shadow, ominously waiting for foolish visitors, with darkly-colored, stained glasses floating around in its shape. It gave the entire building’s exterior a ghostly, _sinister_ feel, no matter whether it was day- or nighttime. I never bothered thinking about it too much when I was still a child and living with my parents, but now that I had come back here after such a long time, I could see why people often described the Royal Palace as a place nightmares were created in.

The front garden of the Royal Palace was just as outlandish as the castle was, outstretched and filled with dangerous, flesh-eating plants and flowers, snapping at everyone who dared to pass through. The grass, and many other bizarre plant-like things that could be ‘admired’ in the garden, was darker than it was supposed to be. However, it (usually) was in a fine, pristine shape, even with the many pits of lava and rubble littering the environment. Finally, there was a high, pointy fence surrounding all of the garden and my parents’ house: not just an ordinary fence – no, this fence was made of black spears and arrows in all shapes and forms, all with the sharp ends pointing up, piercing the sky.

There also was a back yard behind the palace with a vast lake and numerous monsters living in it, that dad like to keep as pets – but since Al and I weren’t going to walk past that big puddle of horror and despair, I saw no reason to mention that specific area to him.

“Oh yes,” Alastor joked jovially, as we strolled down the foggy pathway directly leading us to the palace’s entrance, “this is the place your parents live in alright! The dreadfulness is so _thick_ here, it’s practically _oozing_ out of the very _air_ , ha ha!” 

I made a vague, humming sound and strengthened my hold on his arm. Talking about dreadfulness – I was a bit puzzled and even ashamed, to some extent, upon seeing the _godawful_ state the pathway was in. There were all these… weird, messy heaps of ground and debris around the lane and even some in the garden _itself_. That was bizarre – as well as it was _really_ unsightly to see! What the heck were those strange… garbage circles? Were mom and dad thinking about remodeling the front yard or something? Couldn’t they have waited with that until after the party?

Upon further inspection, I also noticed a familiar-looking snake demon with a top hat lying next to some sort of hole a little up ahead, groaning excessively and with audible whizz in his loud whining. A lot of black and red smoke was fuming out of the hole he had seemingly crawled out of and if you looked closely, you could see that there was some sort of broken piece of machinery stuck in it. There also were countless kinds of smashed-up weapons scattered around him.

Huh…

I wanted to point him out to Alastor, but Alastor walked past the yelping man _so_ briskly and decisively that I could only toss an apologetic smile in the man’s direction. In my defense, apart from some bruises and cuts, the guy seemed fine and sounded _way_ too into his whimpering, so I guess he was… okay?

Oh well. 

**CcC**   
  


“Now! Just a bit more – and then we’re _there,_ my dear!” Al said, sounding a bit out of breath as we ascended the stairs towards the spiky front doors of my parents’ residence. His face had a gleeful sheen to it and he seemed very enthusiastic – Alastor had clearly been looking forward to this event.

That made me think: when was the last time he had attended an actual party? To which he was _invited_ to?

My train of thought was disturbed when he suddenly _picked_ _me_ _up_ and carried me over the last few steps of the stairs, ignoring my startled shriek.

“Are you ready to absolutely _blow everybody’s socks off_ with your beautiful, radiant appearance and jaw-dropping dance moves, Charlie dear? To remind everybody at the party who’s going to be in charge of this hellhole one day and is worthy of everybody’s undivided attention, lest they’ll be doomed to rot away in here forever?”

“Jesus, Al,” I stammered, a bit overwhelmed.

He grinned. “No no, not Jesus and not me, either – not _tonight_ , at least. Give it time. No - I’m talking about _you_ , my darling! Just _you_.”

I laughed a bit harder now. “You’re so cheesy, _god_!”

“I’m also deadly _serious_ though.” In front of the heavy, enormous doors of the palace, he put me down on the hard tiles underneath out feet and placed both of his hands on my shoulders. “You _deserve_ a nice, entertaining evening, filled with dancing and excitement, my love. I did the best I could to – _advice_ your parents and help them prepare a party that’s suitable for a hardworking, honest woman like you. A woman who’s been yearning for a fun celebration for _so_ _long_ , it’s not even nice to jest about it. I hope you’ll enjoy yourself tonight, my sweet Charlie. I really do. Nothing would make me happier.”

Again, there was a tightness in my ribcage – but this time, it was because of nothing but the sweetest, most tender feelings that soared inside of it. I lifted my hands up and put them down on his arms, which were still connected to my shoulders. 

“You do so much for me, Al.”

“I do,” he nodded.

I fondled his arms a bit. They was bare, since he had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. I could feel the grotesque, vicious scars on it scraping against my fingertips, gloves or no gloves, and I was once more reminded of how much he probably must have suffered – in life and after he had died and woken up in Hell. Unwittingly, my gaze stopped its movement when Al casually pulled back his arms – and I took note of the cross-shaped scar on his right hand. It had gotten bigger.

It looked more painful these days. It made me feel nauseous to look at, to be fair.

“You think I’m worth it all?” I found myself saying out loud, for whatever reason.

“Yes,” he replied, _right_ away, as if the answer was set in stone in his mind, and touched my cheek with the back of his – good – hand. “You are worth _everything_ , Charlie. Everything Hell has to offer you – and what Heaven has to offer, too, if you’d ask me. And I’m adamant on giving you _all_ of that.”

“That sounds… very ambitious. Maybe a bit _too_ ambitious.” I looked at him and felt the remarkably soft-hearted movements of his hand against my face. “Al… I don’t need _everything_ , you know? I know you think the world of me, but in the end, I’m a pretty basic girl. I just need my friends, my hotel, my dreams and my determination. I just need _you_. A future with you. A possibility with you. That is all. That is _more_ than enough for me. That makes me happy.”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that now, my love.” Al breathed in and out. “At this moment, all that there’s left for me to do is giving you everything.”

My eyes spread themselves wide open and the cheerful, bubbly feeling swirling around inside of me froze, halting its flows.

There it was again.

That strange, glum tone his voice sometimes got, when he spoke to me about a subject only he seemed to know about. It caused knots to form inside of my stomach, whenever his words got that melancholic tune, whenever his plucky invisible audience grew quiet and whenever he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

I didn’t want him to sound like that.

I didn’t want him to look like that.

What was he hiding? Just _what_ was he hiding? And why did it make him so – _sad_?

Did it had something to do with me? It had something to do with me, hadn’t it?

We could hear music spilling out of the giant, dark building we were standing in front of – we could see the lights flickering behind the massive curtains. Obviously, there was some loud, upbeat-sounding chattering going on right behind those doors. It was almost _irresistible_ to me, it wanted to lure me in…

…just like _everything_ Alastor had done for me these past weeks was to lure me in, comfort me, soothe my mind, distract it from all the _other_ things he was doing for me.

I loved the unconditional love he gave me. Really, I did. It was real, it was unabashed, it was honest and it made me feel more special than I had ever felt.

But I needed more than his unconditional love.

I needed the _truth_.

Right there at the doorstep of my parents’ regal house, I made a decision and reached up to Al’s face, gently making it look my way – like he had done with my face, back in the limousine. Although Al had gotten used to me touching him, the unexpected touch to his face still shook him up. I could tell he had been about to put on a huge smile, knock on the doors and let my parents know that we had arrived… and then I had to stir things up and mess up his plans by grabbing his face and making it look at me.

“Hey Al?” I told him, smiling and holding on to his gaze. “You’re right. Let’s have a lot of fun tonight. Let’s dance the stars off the nightly sky and let’s swing and laugh and entertain ourselves. Let’s kiss each other breathless and hold hands. Let’s joke around and tonight, once we’re on our own – let’s make fiery, desirous love to one another until the bed can’t take it anymore – until _we_ can’t take it anymore. Let’s love each other so _blatantly_ and so _intensely_ that even my mom and dad won’t know what to think of it. Let’s do that, Al – let’s do _all_ of that tonight.”

Alastor didn’t say anything – he realized what was coming. He didn’t look alarmed though and he didn’t try to stop me. He simply listened to me, his facial expression understanding and patient. 

“But once the party’s over…” I deliberately paused there for a moment, making sure I’d pick the right words – words he couldn’t twist and turn into his own truths, “…once the party’s over, you _will_ tell me about the secrets you’ve been hiding from me for… for god knows how long. No more excuses. No more distractions, darling. No more. Okay?”

Alastor kept quiet still. There was something happening in his face. Something that faintly resembled a sweet _relief_ seemed to seep through his stubborn grin, even if it was just a small, barely noticeable hint of it. I’m sure not everyone could have seen it – Alastor was a professional when it was about masking his feelings and putting up a strong front.

But I knew him longer than today.

I had wrapped my arms around him when he had tried his best to get himself away from me. I had seen and heard him cry and kissed his tears away on more than one occasion, no matter how much he attempted to hide them from me. I had watched him lose his sacred control and seen him come undone on top of me, or underneath me, clenching his teeth and clinging to me with everything he had.

I had seen it all. And he knew I had seen it all. He knew it was time.

Therefore, with no way back, he gave me a single, resigned nod.

“Alright, my love.”

I frowned, squeezing my fingers together and twisting his cheek a bit. “You _promise_ you’ll tell me everything after the party?”

He chortled, prying my hand off his face and intertwining it with his own fingers. “You don’t trust my word for it? You _wound_ me, Charlie! Now, what can I do to make you believe me?”

I looked up at Al for a while, before closing my eyes. “Seal it.”

“Seal it?”

“Seal the deal with a kiss.”

He groaned. “My goodness, Charlie, you’re so unbearably _adorable_.”

I shrugged, still keeping my eyes shut. “You like to seal your deals with handshakes, I like to seal mine with kisses.”

“Only the deals you make with _me_ , I hope?”

“You’ll never know.”

“Why you little old _brat_.”

I snickered – and then I just waited, pursing my lips insistently. For a frightful two to three seconds, nothing happened. I was almost starting to fear the worst, but then, _finally_ , I could feel him inching closer in response. I relaxed, feeling happiness wash over me upon realizing that this awful uncertainty that had been bothering me for so long now was coming to an end soon, and I enjoyed the plush, confident press of his lips against mine more than probably was needed.

“It’s a deal,” I softly said when he pulled back. “Right?”

He nodded, resting his - still somewhat sore - forehead against mine for a little longer. “It’s a deal, my love.”

No way back now.

Not anymore.

Thank _god_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A spoiled princess drops her golden ball into the castle’s pond and fears her precious plaything is lost forever. But as she weeps bitter tears, a big frog jumps out of the water and tells her he’ll retrieve the toy for her… if the Princess is willing to befriend him.  
> Reluctantly, the Princess agrees – and the frog gets the golden ball out of the pond. The Princess instantly forgets about the frog and rushes back into the castle, but the frog follows her and demands she pays attention to him. The girl doesn’t really want to do anything with the talking amphibian anymore though and whines about the frog to her dad, the King. But the King says that she has made a promise to the frog and that she should keep it, like a good Princess.  
> Disgruntled, the Princess plays with the frog, lets him eat from her plate and even allows him to sleep in her bedroom with her, on her pillow, even!  
> When they are about to sleep, the frog suggests the Princess should give him a little kiss. The Princess then has about enough of the demanding little slimy animal and picks him up, flinging him against the wall! Unbeknownst to her, this action manages to break an evil spell, as the frog suddenly transforms into a handsome prince! The flustered Princess says she’s sorry for her misdeeds and the Prince, who’s fallen in love with her (for whatever reason), graciously forgives her – heck, he even asks for her hand in marriage, which the Princess is more than happy to give to him. 
> 
> Traditionally, this cute fairy tale is the very first story to appear in any storybook by the Brothers Grimm. In more modern variations of this story, the Princess indeed gives the frog the kiss he asks her for… but in this older version, she just smacks him against the wall. Not to be mean, but in all honesty – I’d do the same.


	20. Cinderella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say this time around!^^ I just hope you're all doing well and that you try to stay safe. These days, that's what's most important, after all! 
> 
> ...and yep, [Chisena](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt) went and did yet _another_ lovely drawing about the three Archangels - with Gabriel as the comic's main character! 8DDDDD Check it out [here](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1333024104463568901)!
> 
> Alastor and Charlie have finally arrived at the Royal Palace. Now they are ready to have some fun! Right? Right...?
> 
> For your amusement only:  
> ['Quit Playing Games With My Heart'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ug88HO2mg44), Backstreet Boys  
> ['Relight My Fire'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40Od45DjCA4), Take That  
> ['I've Been Thinking About You'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGw3w_njQ4g), Londonbeat  
> Yes, you can totally quickstep to these songs. Trust me on this one. XDDDDD
> 
> Enjoy!

When Alastor knocked on the heavy doors of the palace and they opened themselves in front of us, I couldn’t help but fasten my hands around his arm tighter.

I braced myself. I had feared the suffocating air that constantly loomed in and around the regal building would try to smother me, the second I’d set a single foot inside of the Royal Palace. It had always been like that, after all, so – why would it be different today?

Thankfully enough, my restless body and wary mind were put at ease almost right away when the (exuberantly-decorated) entrance hall revealed itself to me, the warmth of the bright lights and the cheerful notes of the music playing in the other room washing over me.

Rather than heard, I _felt_ myself utter a little gasp as I spread my baffled eyes open wide and took in the sight in front of me.

Never before had the fancy palace’s entrance hall looked this _inviting_. Instead of the usual dark and solemn colors greeting me, there was an abundance of _gold_ welcoming me inside of my parental home. It was all thanks to the great number of flashing, glimmering, vibrant lights, the many balloons (in many shapes and sizes, dangling from the ceiling in big, festive clusters), the long, curly streamers embellishing the walls and the _continuous_ rain of glitter and confetti whirling down on us, in pretty much all the colors of the rainbow.  
  
Oh! It – it _was_ , and _looked_ , and _felt_ truly _amazing_!

For the first time in what felt to be _forever_ , the Royal Palace – my birthplace, a castle that I had always regarded as a gloomy, boring and nerve-wrecking place to be – looked like a _fun_ house to come back home to. It… actually blew my mind.

Also, the longer and more attentive I listened to the familiar music playing on the background, the more I realized it was— 

“Nineties music!” I paused from formally nodding to the bowing servants in the entrance’s corridor to turn and look at Al - and I cracked up, _delighted._ “It’s _awful_ , _dreadful_ , corny _nineties music_! The Backstreet Boys even – it’s the freaking _Backstreet Boys_! _Quit playing games with my heart,_ Al _!_ Can you hear it? Oh my _god_!”

Al, who had been a little bit bewildered at the gaudy, yet _very_ celebratory way the place was looking as well, tore his gaze off all the intimidating and posh, luxurious furniture surrounding the two of us. He answered my gleeful grin with a huge one of his own.

“I’m _delighted_ to see how much you already love it, Charlie dear!”

My jaw dropped when I noticed how self-righteous he looked.

“ _You…_ did _you_ arranged this?” I was pretty sure my eyes sparkled even _more_ than that ridiculously _giant_ disco ball I spotted glistering and twirling away in the Royal Hall, where the guests probably were and where the main event - the actual party - took place. I got _so_ excited, rambled shreds of sentences just kept tumbling out of my mouth. “Oh god. You _knew_ about the karaoke party - how much I wanted to join the rest of the hotel with the singing and nineties and stuff – and how bummed out I was that I had to go to _this_ party instead - and then you - you _somehow_ managed to make sure I’d get to be a part of it like this anyway! Isn't that so?”

Alastor chuckled, scratching his cheek, looking both pleased as well as a tad embarrassed. “Well now – this party's main theme was a mere _suggestion_ I told your parents, truth be to—”

I didn’t let him finish – I forcefully _yanked_ him down to my level by his tie and smooched his cunning mouth shut before he could say anything else. Al widened his mismatched eyes in surprise, but let me kiss him, enclosing his hands around my upper arms. I could even feel him once again pulling up a slightly sagging sleeve.

It was such a subtle, caring gesture that I could have melted in a stupid pink puddle right on the spot – but I didn’t.

“I freaking love you _so much,_ ” I wheezed instead, when he managed to push me back a little, “you have no idea.”

Alastor smiled, wiped my lips and leaned towards me, brushing my hair away from my ear. “It’s no karaoke, unfortunately – but my dear, you have no idea how _danceable_ those godawful nineties hits are: ballroom dancing is more suitable for these songs than one might think!”

“No way.” I put my hands in front of my mouth. “Are you telling me that we’re going to _quickstep_ to classic guilty pleasures like… like ‘Relight My Fire’ and ‘I’ve Been Thinking About You’?”

He grinned. “I might have been practicing.”

He had been _practicing_.

Al had been practicing dancing on _terrible_ music from the nineties that was _totally_ _unknown_ to him, a guy from the twenties/thirties – all for _me_.

That must have been incredibly awkward and weird for him, and my fucking _god_ , if my heart was going to get _any_ fuller right now, it was going to _burst_ and leak love all over the tiles here, messing up my pretty dress and make-up and it would all be _his_ _fault_ and ohhhh god, I was going to climb him like a _monkey_ tonight.

But since I really, REALLY was unable to speak without squealing or crying happy tears, I just – beamed at him, already trembling from the anticipation of it all. Out of their own accord, my uncontrollable, neatly-gloved limbs _threw_ themselves around his well-dressed torso and pulled Alastor into a loving embrace. He saw it coming this time and let me hug him, placing few kisses to the top of my head and collecting me in his arms. I smiled and sighed, enjoying his touches and this cozy moment of quiet serenity. I even felt my eyes shutting themselves, almost entirely…

…until I saw my parents, who apparently had waltzed into the entrance hall not too long ago and were currently watching me being lovey-dovey with Al.

O-oh.

My mother looked as breathtakingly pretty and disheartening neutral as always, while my father (also all dolled up, in a white and gold, almost _blindingly_ -white and gold attire) looked just as much as Hell’s top dog as he probably _wanted_ to look like, all while maintaining a cramped-up smile on his face. I noticed my mother held a vice-like grip on his arm, like she feared he might do something inappropriate otherwise.

Do something _inappropriate,_ hm?

…

Looking my dad dead in the eyes, I whispered to (an unsuspecting) Al if it was okay for me to grope his elite backside.

Al let out a snort. “Oh my. How very _polite_ of you to at least ask me beforehand.”

“Can I?” I wanted to know, still not even blinking as I kept my eyes locked on my dad’s, practically _daring_ him to try and stop me.

“Well, if you feel like you need – aaand you’re already doing it.” Al sighed as my hands went for his ass, kneading his buns like their life depended on it. Most of the time, Al wasn’t really impressed by my strange interest in his butt and he most likely felt a bit weird about the whole… groping thing.

However, this _time_ , there was an amused, slightly… _different_ tune to his voice.  
  
I let out a startled yelp as I felt his sharp fingers harshly grabbing hold of my neck, his lips pressing a couple of open-mouthed, hot kisses to my throat. His teeth intentionally scraped my skin, which made me shudder a little. O-oh _god_ , I had expected a _lot_ of things to happen – but for some reason, Alastor promptly _reciprocating_ my lustful innuendoes _hadn’t_ been one of them.

“Please don’t tease me too much, my love: as much as I’m indifferent to sex and all that has something to do with it, I’m not indifferent to _you_ – and you have no idea **_how_ close I indeed was to defiling you**, back in the car.”

Oh god oh god oh god.

Dad must have heard his heated whispers – crap, whispers or not, I think the entire _hallway_ had heard him, really – but much to my amazement, my father _still_ didn’t move a muscle and didn’t flip out, not even when Al (a _tad_ too loudly) mumbled he couldn’t wait to pick my dress _and_ _me_ apart later.

“A-Al,” I gasped, gulping and giggling a little, watching dad carefully. What did he look like? Was he mad? Had I gone too far with my spiteful pestering?

But…

Now don’t get me wrong – I still thought _very_ little of my sly father. He was a _snake_ and a violent _idiot_ that only cared about what was good for him. He never even _attempted_ to broaden his horizons and it was clear to me that I didn’t have to expect him suddenly changing his mind about my hotel and choice of lover.

However, having said that: the fact that he _didn’t_ lose his shit upon seeing Alastor _lewdly_ coming on to me and _didn’t_ attempt to _immediately_ attack Alastor, even without my mother needing to interfere or hold him back… well, that _did_ impress me a bit. I therefore – as some sort of ‘reward’ for my dad – mercifully pulled away from Al.

As I hastily informed (a significantly _flustered_ ) Alastor about my parents having arrived in the entrance hall, I couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed. Trying to rile my dad up by grabbing Al’s glorious butt right in front of him and expecting some sort of ruse out of him, just to acertain my own expectations – god, how _childish_ of me.

I wondered what kind of thoughts went around in my father’s maybe, possibly, _somewhat_ matured mind right now.

  
**LLL**

  
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

 **_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—  
_ ** **  
“—OKAY THEN!”  
**

Much to my satisfaction, both Charlotte and Maroon Mistake jolted a bit upon hearing my thunderous, teensy **_enraged_** voice booming through the entrance hall. Smiling broadly (in like fifty fucking different kinds and forms of hysterical), I took a few grandiose steps towards them and bend my back like a switchblade, ignoring the simultaneous _snapping_ sound that came from it.

 _…ouch_ though.

When I looked up and straightened my hurt spine again, I, for _whatever_ reason, had seen a hint of newfound respect in my daughter’s eyes.

Huh.

I mean – ha HA!

Looks like those impromptu anger management exercises Lilith had lovingly _forced_ me to do right before Charlotte and Lamppost Reject entered the palace had not been a waste of time after all!

My challenged, pumping heart did a headspin, backspin, sixstep, toprock and some other obligatory breakdance-moves upon seeing Charlotte’s careful attention, and this – yes! – this smelled like a very good chance to regain even _more_ of her admiration!

Filled with hope, I opened my mouth again and stretched my arms wide open, as if I wanted to cuddle them both: “Good evening! Please allow me and Queen Lilith to welcome you two to my humble celebratory party, Charlotte and Plus-one! How _nice_ of you to find some time off your needlessly busy and useless schedule to visit your illegally-pretty mom and cool dad, and how _convenient_ you did _not_ walk into any of my homemade pitfalls that I spend all afternoon making! Time I’m _never_ getting back! Never, people! I squandered it all! Ha ha!”

Crazily enough, some of that _must_ have come out the wrong way, since I saw all that shaky, unguarded respect _collapse_ right in front of me as soon as I sneaked a peek at Charlotte again and noted that her eyes had gotten hard and angry again.

I blinked, utterly confused. What the hell – what did I do this _time_ , huh?

“Hello _dad_ ,” Charlotte said, spewing out the word ‘dad’ like it was something filthy.

“Good evening, Sire,” Alastrash nodded to me, a condescending _smirk_ dancing on his lips as he casually looped an arm around my daughter’s waist.

Fucking touchy-feely _bastard_. I wanted to smash the nearest spiky object into his stinking fuckface and I had already reached for the halberd a harness was wielding (the look on Crapastor’s mug was fucking _priceless_ for that one split-second, let me tell you), but, thankfully enough, before I pulled it away from the armor to strike him, I recalled Lilith’s warning, inspirational words of a few hours earlier _just_ in time…

_“Now remember apple pie – trying to kill Alastor with no Charlie around to witness it is kind of impossible if our daughter still happens to be **in the exact same room**. For it contradicts – everything. So find the right moment to catch him on his own, and just calm yourself down with soothing mental images of you bludgeoning Alastor to death if he happens to annoy you while Charlie’s still nearby.”  
_

I swallowed my rage and – just awkwardly _pat_ the halberd.

“…there’s a good halberd.”

Charlotte’s ill-chosen lover simply looked on in puzzled silence. 

He wasn’t the only one who was silent though – the entire hallway had gotten dead quiet! Some gruesome silence _that_ was – sure, there was still music going on in the Royal Hall, and yeah, you could also hear all of the other guests and visitors babbling away in a _very_ loud volume from that one room, but in _this_ room, the uncomfortable quietness was taking hold of the otherwise festive ambiance and slowly turned it into awkwardness-pus.

Thank the seven layers of Hell I had Lilith with me, though!

“Hello Charlie, hello Alastor,” she said, gently (but insistently) pushing me out of the way, obscuring my view on our two visitors with her immensely _huge_ , yet also so very _attractive_ figure. “You both look very lovely and handsome tonight. Pink suits your pale complexion well, sweetie.”

Stepping back, I looked up at my wife. The unnatural sound of her monotonous voice gave away she was being _extremely_ cautious with her words right now.

It worked, however, since Charlotte’s icy demeanor seemed to thaw – and even a small smile broke free on her face.

“Hi mom. Thanks! You… look nice as well. Lots of… um, purple and black going on in your outfit. But you can definitely handle it! That's a great gown you’re wearing!”

“Yes. What about my nails?” Lilith – happy to hear our daughter complimenting her – dryly stuck out her clawlike hands, showing off the pointy, glittery edges of her fingertips. “I don’t want to brag, but these nails are so dangerously stupendous, people almost died while preparing them. What do you think?” 

Charlotte chuckled. “They look cool! Don’t you think so too, Al?”

“They are very impressive indeed,” Alastupid agreed.

I grunted. Bluh bluh bluh _dey are vewy impwessive indeed_ bluh bluh. Asshole.

“They truly are, aren’t they? I can slaughter masses with them now. Not that I'll do that. I just am able to do so now. Anyway.” Lilith paused for a second, hesitating on how to continue. “Perhaps you and I can make an appointment with my nail lady later, Charlie. So that she can fix those sad, dull excuses for nails you have there, while we converse and bond accordingly.”

Charlotte rolled with her eyes and a frown was about to appear on her forehead – but when the Radio Dung next to her gave her an encouraging squeeze, she let out a soft sigh and showed her mother another one of her nowadays rare smiles.

“Sure, mom. Why not.”

Oh! What a clever way of my wife to try and get Charlotte to leave me alone with one of the biggest disasters that ever came down from the land of the living! I snickered and was about to suggest she and Charlotte should go settle on a date right now – but then Lilith beckoned both our offspring and our offspring’s current bedmate to walk to the other room with her, where, as Lilith put it, ‘everyone was waiting for her’.

I couldn’t deny it: there was a mighty _hard_ stab in my chest area when I watched Charlotte’s pretty face light up like a small sun upon hearing that news. My child had always been a huge fan of presents and surprises, and she loved it when people came over just for her (I mean, that _never_ happened). Over the moon, Charlotte latched herself onto her lover’s arm some more, gleefully vocalizing her innocent excitement as she pulled him with her, following her mother into the Royal Hall.

I stayed behind, profoundly baffled and wondering about what I should do next.

Also, if my eyes hadn’t deceived me, there was something amiss with that bony twig’s hand. He kept – twitching it.

…

I should take a better look at that later, when I got the chance.

**  
AaA**

**  
**After Charlie had stricken up yet _another_ lively, yet incomprehensible and rather boring conversation with a random guest (a sinner that had worms for hair this time, by the look of it), I decided it was safe for me to let go of her for a bit and discreetly retreated myself to the bar in the Royal Hall.

Mind you though: I wouldn’t wander away too far away from Charlie and I’d keep a careful eye on my radiant princess brightening up the already illumined party hall at all times. This was something Lilith had quietly yet _urgently_ ordered me to do so a little while ago, and I knew better than to question the demonic entity that had indirectly saved my life on an earlier account. I hadn’t asked Her Highness _why_ she thought I should stick close to Charlie, but my guess was that Lucifer was up to something… and judging by the way he almost grabbed that halberd in the entrance hall, it wasn’t something particularly _nice_.

Oh well. I didn’t feel too worried – not as long as Charlie was nearby and clearly having the time of her life.

I sat back on the barstool and sighed contently as I looked around the packed room, filled to the brim with people and other kinds of creatures laughing, dancing and having a grand old time in the Royal Palace. 

I snickered to myself: well, the King and Queen of Hell perhaps won’t ever win any Parents Of The Year-awards, but my goodness, they sure can follow up instructions, if that’s what’s needed for them to see their daughter make an appearance at their social gathering!

First of all, the castle’s decoration and the theme of the evening’s festivities. My tips and tricks regarding these two important key elements had all been _precisely_ executed, although I had to admit everything was a bit too much and too tasteless to my liking. However, Charlie herself had absolutely _loved_ it, that sweet ray of sunshine – the way her alluring eyes twinkled like the purest of diamonds after she had seen just what kind of palace she had gotten herself into… the way she had looked at me upon realizing I had been the one behind it, her overjoyed and thrilled face never looking more attractive and kissable to me…

Ah, but all in good time. All in good time... 

Then, the invitees to the party. Not only had Lucifer and Lilith obediently asked the more… _overlooked_ , yet still _very_ powerful overlords in Hell to come over to their party, they had also refrained from inviting stuck-up, unworthy ghouls, demons and upper-class beings that had always looked down on my charming princess. Instead, the King and Queen had replaced these sinners with a lot more normal, common lowlifes – people Charlie would feel a lot more comfortable to be around with. They sure came in handy: according to Angel Dust, Niffty, and a few of the hotel’s other inhabitants, these ‘clients’ and ‘friends’ of theirs knew how to throw a decent party and had a lot of ‘connections’, too.

Well, you know what they say: it never hurts to stay on friendly terms with people that had 'connections'. 

Plus, these people – because they were acquaintances of the sinners that lived in the hotel – at the very least treated Charlie with some level of _reverence_ and _admiration_. They had all heard about the strange hotel that strived to rehabilitate sinners and try to get them to Heaven, _especially_ now that word was on the streets more and more sinners’ appearances had started to chance, ever since they had entered that very same hotel.

It had been a tough job, oh ho, no doubt about it… but it was very fulfilling to see that all of my and the others’ efforts hadn’t been in vain… and seeing how much Charlie enjoyed being the center of attention – in the most _positive_ kind of way, for a change. She was used to mocking words and getting laughed or even _spit_ at – but now? Now _here_ she was. She was _seen_ , she was _listened to_ , she was _important_ , she was _brilliant_ , she was _the most beautiful angel_ in the entire world and all that was connected to it.

And all of that goodness – all of that pure, incorruptible goodness of hers – it was all _mine_.

Certainly, they could all stare at her as much as they wanted to, talk to her – heavens, they could even _dance_ with her, for all I cared. But at the end of the day, she’d come back to _me_. _I_ would be the one lucky bastard who was allowed to take her home and hold her for the rest of the night, in spite of all my flaws and wrongdoings. 

A feeling of bliss and genuine, earnest, _simple_ happiness came over me as I watched Charlie from a distance, as she laughed about something funny an imp was telling her.

Look at her.

Just _look_ at her _._

No matter how I put it or from whatever direction I let my eyes rest on her, all I could see was the magnificent energy she sparked, her figure the very shape, tale and well-kept secret of love itself.

Her glove’s sleeve had been sliding off her arm yet again and without looking at it, she tugged it up again, way sloppier than it was meant to be pulled up. I’d have to roll it up for her later again and then she’d look at me like _that_ again, smile at me like _that_ again, bite her lip like _that_ again…

My goodness, I loved her so _much_.

I loved Charlie so, _so_ disgustingly much. I might even loved her more than I loved _myself_.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Did I, now?

_“You promise you’ll tell me everything after the party?”_

Her imploring voice, echoing in the back of my head, suddenly rose up from the depths of my mind, ruthlessly _smacking_ my love-struck expression until it turned a bit sour. With a bitter, yet resigned laugh, I twisted the stool I sat on away from the view a bit further up ahead, even as three large, imposing-looking figures made their way through the crowd to get to Charlie.

I suppose that was a downside to loving her as much and as desperately as I did: I no longer could keep things secret from her. Well – I _could_ , but even when Charlie _didn’t_ see through my lies and smiles fast enough, it still left a nasty taste in my mouth. Whenever I had the sheer _guts_ to hide something from her, it – didn’t feel _normal_. Not _anymore_. And that surprised me: I _never_ had much trouble keeping secrets from others and telling them the most outrageous things to keep them satisfied and happy.

But the more Charlie won me over and squeezed her way into my heart, the more she opened my eyes. She made me realize that there was _more_ to a relationship than just loving the other person and believing that _that_ would automatically undo and excuse every bad decision I had ever made.

My hand stung again. Wincing, I stared at the cross on the back of it. It still didn’t look like much, but these days, the cross was like a white-hot piece of metal that was constantly being pushed down to my skin, marring me – _punishing_ me. It wasn’t always as bad as it was right now, fortunately enough – but it _haunted_ me. It was a never-ending reminder that I had done something I could no longer run away from. A _curse_ , even.

Oh, but I regretted _nothing_. Absolutely _not_. Regretting what I had done and what I had decided to do was like regretting letting myself fall in love with Charlie. Regretting letting my heart beat for someone else. I did _not_ regret that. I would _never_ regret that.

But the curtains were starting to close themselves on my big scheme now. The clock was ticking away; it was two minutes to twelve now.

Time was running out for me.

I’m not going to lie: it plagued me, needing to come clean to Charlie first and then watching the brutal realization of my meddling behind her back dawn upon her perplexed face. The mere thought alone shook and crushed me to my very core. I had come to know my charming demon belle rather well these past… how long had it been since the first time I met her, twelve months? A whole _year_ already? And yet – and I said this many times already - I still didn’t know all about her. I hadn’t seen all of her many sides yet. For example, I had no clue on how she’d react to me confessing all of my plans and plots to her.

That agitated me, because if _that_ course of action was _the_ _one_ to make me see even the darkest, most unspeakable, unpleasant sides of my darling Charlie…

…would I even want to see it?

**  
CcC**

**  
**I had to pinch my own arm a few times before I was willing to believe it, and even then I felt tempted to not believe it. Not _entirely_ , at least!  
  
But it was true. Uncle Gabe, uncle Raph and uncle Mike – my father’s brothers and three of the most important Archangels Heaven had ever produced… they were _here_. They really were _here_!

They had showed up all of a sudden, the – rightfully frightened – sinners around me instinctively making room for the three divine beings marching towards me in a straight line. I hadn’t really noticed them right away. I mean, sure, they were big, but there were more large and impressive sinners dwelling around in Hell - it wasn’t exactly _unusual_ to see someone bigger than me waking around. But when the person I was happily chatting with abruptly fell quiet and disappeared into the crowd, I knew something different was happening here – and I finally took time to look up and gaze at the strangers that approached me.

Call it intuition, but I knew right away these three men were my uncles, even before they introduced themselves to me. I could even hazard a guess as to tell who was who, based on my father’s stories about them.

Uncle Michael was no-doubt the biggest and most robust-looking Archangel of the three of them. He easily towered above my father, but even Alastor and my mother would have to raise their heads a great deal to be able to look the Archangel in the eyes. Uncle Mike didn’t smile – not a _hint_ of a smile was on his face, even. Like he had… actually never even _done_ it before. There _was_ a giant wrinkle cemented in his forehead, however, proving that this uncle wasn’t only the polar opposite of my wimpy father in terms of impressive appearances, but in terms of character as well. Uncle Mike was a stern, serious-looking man, with majestic, pearly-white feathers attached to his back that probably had the wingspan of an enormous albatross, if he’d stretch them all the way out.

Uncle Gabriel probably looked the most _upbeat_ of the three of them. Appearing just a bit less tall than uncle Mike, uncle Gabe _did_ wear a smile, but it was an easy, nonchalant one. It was a smile that didn’t look like it was permanently stapled into his face, like it was the case with Alastor’s. He had the same round, red patterns on his cheeks my dad, uncle Mike and I had, and he had the longest, most _gorgeous_ hair of all three of them. It… gave him a fairly feminine air – even though his built was quite lean and athletic, I noted the closer he got to me. He was the only one to visibly greet me, one hand raised up high as he and the other two came moved towards to me, his other hand pushed into the pocket (??) of his fancy robe.

And finally, the third and shortest of the three of them: uncle Raphael, most likely. He was rather short and feeble in comparison to my other two uncles, but he was still much bigger than me and dad – he probably had about the same height as my mother, if I had to take a guess. Uncle Raph’s eyes were shut tightly and it didn’t seem like he could open them, either – hence why I knew right away this man had to be ‘the blind one’, as my empathic father had oh so very poetically called him once. He looked like the nicest out of all three Archangels and he had the least violent aura hanging around him. Of course, that could also have something to do to the fact he had almost walked into one of the few pillars in the room, hadn’t uncle Gabe smoothly pulled him away from it just in time.

With my three Archangelic uncles coming closer and closer to me with every second, I understood perfectly well why most of the sinners around them got a bit peevish and tried to get away from them as far as possible. I swear – all the guests were all of a sudden all but _plastered_ to the walls of the Royal Hall, their frantic eyes keeping track of the unusual invitees to the party.

Oh! Had they – had they come to this party for me as well?

Had Alastor somehow managed to arrange this as well?

I chuckled and quickly scanned to room, looking for Al. If he had been the one responsible for making my uncles appear on my dad’s party, then he sure as heck was going to meet them, too!

Soon enough, I spotted him, sitting at the (suddenly almost completely abandoned) bar. I turned to my uncles.

“One – one second! I – god, I’m so _thrilled_ to finally meet you – but one second! I need to fetch someone – he’s probably responsible for this – just a sec!”

With my heart throbbing in my throat, I ran across the room to the bar, practically _jumping_ Alastor from behind.

“Al! Al – it’s my uncles! My uncles are here, Al – come and meet them! I want you to meet them!” I kept tugging his arm, until he finally looked my way. “Come on Al, I need you to… I need you… I…”

Wait - where was his smile?

I let go of his arm and felt my stomach make a weird twist. 

Literally _too_ worked up and out of breath to get the right words to come out – and too dumbstruck by seeing Alastor’s unusual, _dejected_ face, I started to gasp and pant a little. I didn’t know what to do – too many emotions were currently fighting one another to take control – and then Al suddenly burst into laughter, as he saw me struggling like that.

“Ha ha, don’t forget to _breathe_ , now, Charlie! You _need_ me, you say?” he said, his well-known, plastic grin put back in place again within seconds, and he got off the stool. “Well then, my love – let’s go back to the start, shall we? How can I help you, hmm?”

“M-my uncles,” I managed to wheeze, “come meet my uncles, Al.”

“I will,” he nodded, not even a _bit_ surprised that my uncles were here in the first place and thus confirming my suspicions he had played a role in their presence here.

“Okay – this way then,” I continued, taking his hand in mine. “Oh, and… and Al?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry yourself so much.”

He stopped himself from replying and looked at me.

“It’ll be okay, Al.” I smiled softly at him and brought his hand to my face, kissing the scarred back of it – still keeping my eyes glued to his at all times. “Everything will be _okay_ , sweetie.”

Alastor was at a loss for words and began doing interesting impressions of a goldfish, opening and closing his mouth as he grasped for anything to say. But I was alright with that. While he kept fruitlessly trying to come up with a witty remark in response to those gentle words of reassurance I had told to him, I simply pulled him along and walked back to where my Heavenly uncles were.

“H-hello, uncle Mike, uncle Gabe, uncle Raph!” I laughed awkwardly as I approached the three awaiting Archangels and squeezed Al’s hand, wordlessly asking him to please grand me the courage and strength to have a _normal_ conversation with the _very_ _first_ family members I had ever met, outside of my parents. “I’m – I’m Charlie. Your niece. How are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When a wealthy widower remarries a proud and haughty woman, his daughter quickly becomes the slave of not only her, but also her two own, evil daughters. The poor girl is forced to do all kinds of the most dirty and humiliating chores – and instead of telling her (incredibly oblivious) father, the girl bears the abuse without any complaints. She doesn’t even mind that her stepfamily mockingly calls her ‘Cinderella’, because she’s always covered in cinders.  
> One day, the prince invites unmarried young ladies all over the land to a Royal Ball. Cinderella isn’t allowed to go and she breaks into tears. Her Fairy Godmother then appears and helps Cinderella out by putting her in a breathtakingly gorgeous dress and by transforming random things and rodents into a golden carriage, horses, coachmen and footman. Cinderella also gets a pair of glass slippers. Before leaving, her Godmother warns her: make sure to return before midnight; that’s when the spell will be broken.  
> For two nights, Cinderella goes to the Royal Ball and has the time of her life, as she dances with the Prince. The girl has so much fun that on the second evening, she loses track of time. When she finally realizes she needs to go, it’s already past midnight and Cinderella flees, leaving behind a single glass slipper and a heartbroken Prince, who vows to marry the girl who fits the slipper.  
> The Prince proceeds to try the slipper on all the women in his Kingdom, but nobody seems to fit the little shoe… until he arrives at Cinderella’s home. After the stepsisters have unsuccessfully tried to wring their fat feet into the little slipper, Cinderella gets her chance to try it on… and of course, it fits perfectly. Fearing repercussions, Cinderella’s stepfamily plead for forgiveness, and the girl forgives them. Cinderella and the Prince get married and they live a happily ever after. 
> 
> What a darling little story, right? Yes – THIS version (by Perrault) is very sweet and has a nice ending… but the version of the Brothers Grimm is MUCH more horrific: in that version, the stepsisters chop off pieces of their feet in order to fit them in the slipper (it doesn’t work out). Also, Cinderella is a lot less forgiving in this version: when the stepfamily shows up at her wedding, the sisters are pecked blind by the birds Cinderella summons and the stepmother is forced to wear burning shoes and dance until she dies! Whoa!


	21. Goldilocks and the Three Bears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Whoa!** This fanfic got over _10 000 views_ , you guys!! <3 <3 <3 Thank you so very much for all of your lovely attention and time! 8DDDD
> 
> Just a few more weeks and I'll have my winter/Christmas break! I can't wait to FINALLY sleep in for a change - I haven't done that in weeks, to be honest.^^;;; Also, gaming. I want to play more games during the holidays... it's been a while!  
> Oh! And a little heads-up: **next week, I'll probably upload this fic on Tuesday evening instead of Wednesday afternoon.** It's because my school's having a Project Week next week, and that means I can't leave earlier on a Wednesday.  
> Just a litte FYI! 
> 
> Songs that are referenced:  
> ['Let Me Entertain You'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymPu2PdLW3I) by Robbie Williams  
> ['Oops I Did It Again'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CduA0TULnow) by Britney Spears  
> ['Praise You'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ruAi4VBoBSM) by Fatboy Slim  
> ['Rhythm Is A Dancer'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkhGkRahU6g) by Snap!  
> ['I Wanna Dance With Somebody'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eH3giaIzONA) by Whitney Houston

After the first bumbling, awkward introductions had been made, Charlie, the three Archangels and I decided to move our conversation to the other side of the Royal Hall: that way, the rest of the castle’s visitors could carry on with their nonsensical chattering, gossiping and dancing, without having to be _too_ wary of the… _unconventional_ melting pot of creatures standing in the middle of it all.

While the music and the laughter pleasantly buzzed around in the spacious room and the ambiance got peppy and festive again, I took in the sight in front of me.

Because, well well well – there they were at last, in all of their fluttery, heavenly glory.

How had Bob called them again?

Mighty Michael, Righteous Gabriel and Wise Raphael.

Yes. Lucifer’s angelic brothers. The tree most-important Archangels Heaven had to offer – and Charlie’s honorable uncles.

Now, if I recalled most of Bob’s secretly-channeled information about Heaven and Hell correctly, Michael was supposed to be the eldest one of the Archangels, followed by Lucifer, then Raphael, then Gabriel. Of course, these three brothers weren’t the only siblings Lucifer had left behind in Paradise: according to Bob, good old loony Luci had many, _many_ more divine and powerful family members up in Heaven. Upon encouraging Bob to disclose more of that heavenly lore to me, he had also told me a lot of fascinating facts and tidbits about the Void, Archangels and their inherited powers in general and… nectar and ambrosia, for some reason?

Oh well. I suppose it wasn't _that_ unusual that the bland Angel wanted to rant about nectar and ambrosia so badly: ever since he had come to the hotel and gotten a taste of my (amazing, if I may say so) cooking, he had started to realize just _how much good food_ he had been missing out on for all these millennia. Therefore, the poor fellow probably needed to vent his frustrations about the gruesomely _boring_ meals in Heaven every once in a while. Something like that.

I couldn’t care less about it: a heavenly phenomenon like unimaginative food wasn’t important for me or my case anyway.

Michael, Gabriel and Raphael, however – now _these_ heavenly phenomenons _were_ important for me and my case.

And it showed – good _lord_ , the three Archangels were _so_ awe-inspiring, pompous and downright _intense,_ my overbearing ego was almost silenced by them!

 _Almost._ Let’s not push it, hmm?

  
**AaA  
  
**

Thankfully, I could hide my amazement rather well, as to be expected of me: I simply smiled affably at the three blondes and stood up straight, inflating and expanding my chest with a silent breath of air. Subsequently, I closely observed how the trio of Heavenly brethren responded to both me and my darling Charlie.

As for their reactions to Charlie – well, I was no expert on emotions, not by _far_ , but I could tell (by the way they genuinely paid attention to their niece’s adorable rambling about how utterly _delighted_ she was to finally meet three of her one hundred estranged family members) that they instantly took a liking to her, just like…

…well, just like _everybody_ instantly took a liking to Charlie, the second people actually took the time to go and have a friendly conversation with her. This had been old news to me already – heavens, at _this_ point, I was merely stating universally-known _facts_. 

It was strangely _heartwarming_ to witness: three of Paradise’s most dangerous and impressive Archangels, nodding endearingly and patiently at everything Lucifer’s charming offspring was nervously rattling on about and not even _once_ trying to interrupt her as long as she was talking about – _whatever_ it was she was talking about. Raphael had a thrilled, pleased glow to his pale face the entire time, Gabriel was smiling broadly as well and had to visibly withhold himself from throwing his arms around his niece and Michael – well, he didn’t _smile_ per se, but his eyes had a warm and soft wetness to them that gave away how fuzzy he felt.

In all fairness, I found it very odd _,_ seeing these powerful entities being _this_ ridiculously happy to meet Charlie. However, I was quick to remind myself that Charlie was, most likely, the _only_ blood-related family member outside of Heaven they had. Also, since their rebellious brother Lucifer had been the sole sibling that had given in to sin and therefore managed to produce a daughter in the form of Charlie, having her as their niece was the closest thing to having a child of their own Michael, Raphael and Gabriel were ever going to get. 

Oh my. That was so…

 _Perfect_.

In any case, as Charlie’s voice began to falter a bit – since my darling princess had ran out of random topics to make cute remarks about – I could feel her uncles’ attention was starting to drift over… to _me_. Although my poker-face hid all signs of any discomfort, a chill ran over me nevertheless when their inspecting, judgmental eyes examined me thoroughly. They still didn’t speak a word, and I had to say that they, like me, seemed to be fairly good at hiding their emotions and feelings behind a veil of neutral interest – but I was no idiot.

They obviously weren’t too enthusiastic about what they saw.

“O-oh, I’m so sorry!” Charlie then said, breaking the slight tension that had been building up in the relative short time she had been searching for something new to talk about, “I just – keep going on and on, haha, and I’m totally forgetting that you – probably – well – wh-what I want to say is – um, instead of letting me run my mouth and spout nonsense, is there anything you would like to ask me, or tell me?”

“I _do_ have a question for you, dear niece,” Michael spoke up _right_ that instant, pointing a large, angelic finger in my direction, “who is this smirking sinner you have showed up with?”

Raphael laughed and patted his brother’s buff arm, even if he almost hit Gabriel in the process, first. “Now _now,_ Mike! You are always so quick to jump to conclusions – who says this person is a sinner? They could be a hell-spawn demon, too!”

“No, he is a sinner alright,” Michael said.

Gabriel nodded. “Oh yes. _Definitely_ a sinner.”

“Well I’m glad we all agree on _that_ ,” I said, chuckling. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Raphael, but yes: guilty as charged! I’m a sinner!”

Raphael raised his eyebrows. “Well I’ll be! So Luci’s sweet Charlemagne is in a romantic relationship with a sinner man? Ha ha! How _amusing_! Looks like the apple does not fall too far from the tree after all!”

While the shortest Archangel chortled (and the other two simply stared at him and me in turns), Charlie and I reddened a bit. Neither one of us had said anything about us being in a relationship of some sorts – and even though the obvious fact that she was holding on to me would have given _something_ away, Raphael’s eyes were shut. Tightly. _The entire time_. So how did he notice?

“Uh…” Charlie stammered, feeling she had to say something. “W-well…”

Upon hearing our astonishment and unease, Raphael brusquely stopped laughing. “Oh, pardon me for surprising you two like that. I have, say, a _knack_ for sensing these kinds of things, you see? I might not be able to see much – well I am not able to see _anything_ , let us be honest here, ha ha ha – but, you see, lovers give off an entirely different and unique aura, in comparison to people who are merely friends or acquaintances to one another.”

“Is this correct?” Michael wanted to know, looking at Charlie now. “You are this sinner’s _lover_?”

Gabriel grinned, folding his arms together. “If Raph says so, you _know_ it is correct, Mike. The man _is_ the patronage for lovers, after all. He protects them.”

Michael grumbled, rolling his eyeballs around in their sockets. “Raphael could be the patron saint for _blind_ _people_ for all I care.”

“Oh I am,” Raphael said.

“What?”

“As a matter of fact, I am also a patron saint for blind people, Mike. You forgot this wonderfully ironic fact? _Gasp_! Shame on you!”

“Please do not literally say ‘gasp’ when gasping, Raphael.” The eldest Archangel groaned. “And I am sorry for saying this, but if I tried to keep up with all the things and people we are supposed to be patronages for, I would lose my mind and go insane.”

“That is no problem at all, dear brother… for I am a protector of the sick and insane as _well_!”

"Raphael I am so done with you."

As Michael and Raphael continued their weird little argument, Gabriel had scooted over to me and Charlie until he was standing right next to me. I had barely sensed him coming closer and his sudden close presence threw me off more than I’d like to admit. He didn’t touch me, but he was _uncomfortably_ close, and I couldn’t help but remove myself (and therefore Charlie as well) further away from him.

“U-uhm,” Charlie muttered confusedly, as she shuffled around with me.

Gabriel didn’t seem to realize (or care about) my discontentment concerning the current situation and beamed a big, brazen smile at me, obscurely gesturing over his shoulders, to his brothers.

“You might think that _those_ two have weird things and people to be Heavenly protectors of, but guess what, sinner sir: I am a patronage of postmen, clerks, telecommunication workers, stamp collectors – _stamp collectors_ for crying out loud – and radio broadcasters.”

For a moment, I was stunned. Blinking my eyes, I repeated him: “…radio broadcasters, you said?”

“That is right. Radio broadcasters, Alastor.” Gabriel’s dark, enlarged eyes, that were perfect, but not necessarily _kind_ replicas of Charlie’s, shone mysteriously as they locked on to me. “That _is_ your name, is it not? I heard… things about you. Never would have guessed you are little Charleston’s actual lover though.”

Blood drained from my face upon me hearing the Archangel’s breezily-spoken words and it was getting harder for me to keep my smile in place. He _knew_ me? How? Was it because I used to be a radio host when I was still alive, or was it because of…

…something or _someone_ else?

“You heard about Alastor, uncle Gabe?” Charlie then asked, her hands gripping my arm and unwittingly calming me down as she looked up at her uncle in curiosity. “Is it because he used to work as a radio broadcaster of some sorts in his past life?”

Fear snagged me by the throat once more and I grinded my teeth, frustrated. So much for calming down! Oh ho, my darling, lovely Charlie – what a miserably _perfect_ timing for a question I might _not_ want you to hear the answer to, my love. Not _yet_ , in any case – and certainly not out of _his_ mouth.

While both Michael and Raphael eventually ceased their bickering about their Heavenly duties and came to stand with the rest of us again, Archangel Gabriel watched me carefully – for an _unsettling_ long amount of time. The nonchalant, easy smile on his face was one hundred percent _earnest_ though, and therefore absolutely, _horribly_ puzzling to behold.

At long last, he let out a resigned breath.

“Let me put it this way: Alastor’s deeds have left _quite_ the impression on me.”

Charlie didn’t say a word, but I felt her body tensing up and moving closer to me.

“What kind of deeds are we talking about here?” Michael’s gruff voice spoke up, sounding annoyed. “You should have informed me about this sinner sooner, Gabriel – we had that talk about improving our means of communication _just_ this Saturday. Now I have to make it an agenda item for the upcoming meeting _again_. But alright, pray tell: what kind of sinner _is_ this man?”

“Oh a _terrible_ one!” Gabriel grinned. “I heard through the grapevine this guy was a vicious serial killer when he was still a human man. Not even a _righteous_ one, either, oh no no – he killed innocent people whenever he was feeling _bored_ or _stressed out_. And yes, I know: most of the time, you can put part of the blame on a serial killer’s parents for having their child turning out to be a cold-blooded murderer, but there is no record of any Freudian excuse in this man’s history: both of his parents were perfectly _nice_ people and they both ended up in Heaven.”

I exhaled softly. Gabriel _knew_ , but he hadn’t exposed me. _Why_ hadn’t he, though?

Well, I needed to think about that later, as I was suddenly faced with a _very_ disgruntled-looking Michael.

“Is Gabriel right?” he asked me, his gaze all but piercing right through me. “Were you a shameless serial killer in your past life who slaughtered others for your own sick amusement, without having _any_ justification to do so?”

Despite his fearsome, overwhelmingly disapproving appearance, Michael didn’t frighten me in the _slightest_. Gabriel’s incomplete answer to Charlie’s question had given me a sudden confidence boost and I smiled haughtily at the oldest Archangel.

“Of course, I _could_ tell you that all of Mr. Gabriel’s accusations are nothing but tall stories, but, truth be told, I didn’t end up in Hell because I was such an outstanding, thoughtful human being, now did I? I fear all the rumors are true, Mr. Michael: I truly am a _despicable_ man! Even the possibilities I had to go to Heaven didn’t make me want to better myself – oh, _perish_ the very thought! But that’s alright! I’m feeling quite at home in Hell! As long as I have what I need here, I’ll choose eternal damnation over your _boring_ Paradise _any_ day!”

Had I said such menacing, challenging words to his slightly younger and more murderous brother, I would have been sure to ignite a furious, _rabid_ reaction of some sorts – but Michael wasn’t like Lucifer and calmly exchanged glances with Gabriel.

“Get a load of _this_ piece of work.” The youngest brother snickered, empathically shaking his head at Michael. “He is _something_ , is he not?”

“Quite.” The big Archangel turned to Charlie, who had been remarkably quiet up till this point. “Charlie?”

“Yes, uncle Mike?” Charlie asked.

“You heard this sinner’s… _condescending_ speech just now, did you not?”

“I didn’t go anywhere, so yeah, I did.”

“You did. And yet, you do not seem to be appalled or disgusted by this man’s terrible past or violations.”

“Well, I – kind of _knew_ about his misdeeds already.”

“Are you telling me you are _fine_ with his crimes? You do not _mind_?”

Charlie made a face and looked away from her uncle’s steel, questioning face for a moment. My chest ached when I saw her like that and I wanted to comfort her, or at the very least make her uncles aim their accusing, offhanded remarks to _me_ , but then she raised her face again, and Charlie’s firm, determined voice rang through the air again before I could intercept the dialogue.

“I’m not saying I _approve_ of Alastor’s misdeeds, because I don’t. I _really_ don’t. Al has done all kinds of despicable things. There’s nothing even _remotely_ redeeming about all the terror and pain he has caused – and Al knows _very_ well I condemn the sins he committed while still alive. However, there is _more_ to him. There is much, _much_ more. And I – I happen to love him.”

It was a short and simple message – but it was enough to silence her uncles. It was also enough to give my heart a sudden, overjoyed jolt of happiness and I was too late to stop myself from leaning towards her and planting a thankful kiss to her temple. Charlie’s eyes swiftly shot up to look at me – and a tiny smile curled around her lips. It was temping to kiss her there as well, but in the end, I decided not to. Things were a bit too tense for frivolous kisses at the moment.

When I looked back at her skeptical, Heavenly uncles, it was quite entertaining to see that both Gabriel and Michael were now clearly having an internal struggle with what to do or how to respond to all of this.

My oh my. I had to suppress a sarcastic scoff. How hilariously _tragic_ : Come and take a look at the pitiful Archangels, everyone! They were _this_ close to creating a meaningful bond with Charlie, and then they realized that their innocent, good-hearted niece is in love with an unredeemable sinner like me. One of the _foulest_ beings that had ever strolled into Hell. Somebody who had _deservedly_ lost all of his basic human rights.

Oh they probably _wanted_ to support Charlie, regardless of her choice of romantic partner… but these men’s own, larger-than-life feelings of justice, integrity and righteousness were making it hard for them to simply ignore the stone-cold _facts_ that laid in front of them. That was _unspeakable_! That was _insane_!

So _now_ what to do? Such a _pickle_ they were in!

Ha! _Well_ then! Let’s see how they were going to solve this complicated dilemma _without_ losing face or lying to themselves—

“Now now now,” Raphael’s jolly, relaxed utterances interrupted both my sadistic gloating and his brothers’ brooding predicament, as he stepped in-between Gabriel and Michael and tried to stand in front of me and Charlie. “I believe we can solve this silly dispute with no more than four questions!”

The other Archangels, Charlie and I looked at him, not saying anything. Gabriel quietly turned his sibling a bit further around though, so he could decently face the four of us and not continue his tale to the wall he had been talking to.

Raphael wasn’t bothered by this at all and cracked the joints of his hands. “Alright, I take that uncanny silence as a yes. Well! Allow me to question you, sinner man, so that we can all move along and have some fun at this party – I, for one, am dying to have a little dance-off with my favorite niece!” 

Charlie let out an alleviated snort. “You only have one niece to begin with, uncle Raph.”

“Precisely! And I’m _very_ frugal with that one niece!” the blind man said, grinning – before he smacked both of his hands down on my shoulders and made me solidify on the spot. “Now! Are you ready, sinner man?”

I could hardly answer – I was still processing that this strange, Heavenly being was casually **_touching me_**. “I—”

“Question one! Roughly put, how long have you been in a romantic relationship with our niece?”

“I – I suppose seven months or eight months? Something like that?”

“Question two: have you committed any murders ever since getting involved with our niece, or do you still have any _planned_?” 

“No, I haven’t.”

“Question three: how did you redeem one of your human eyes?”

“I’m… not sure, in all honest—”

“Well _I_ am sure. Because you did something _good._ You only get parts of your human body back when you do something _good_. So you did something _good,_ sinner man. Congratulations!”

“…thank you?”

“Final question!” Raphael immediately _stampeded_ through. “Do you care for, love and respect our niece? Think fast!”

“Yes – yes to all of that.”

Raphael smiled at me – well it was a little off, but I dared to say he tried his best to smile in my direction – and tapped against my cheek, like an affectionate grandfather would. I was too perplexed and confused with everything that was going on to slap his hand away and just watched the Archangel, speechless beyond any recognition.

“You are kinder than you think you are, young man.”

A few final pats to the face – and then he retracted his hand, moving right over to Charlie. My lover was still standing next to me and, judging on the sniffing sounds she was making, she was close to crying.

She shouldn’t cry on a night like this – and instinctively, I wanted to help her out, tell he she didn’t need to shed tears for my sake. But then I decided that all of that pesky water shimmering inside of my eyes had to go away, first.

“Thank you,” I heard Charlie stammer, while I slowly raised a hand and wiped one of my eyes. “He needed someone to say that to him – someone _other_ than me. Thank you, uncle Raph. Thank you _so_ much!”

Raphael’s boisterous laugh was heard once more. “It was my _pleasure_ , Charlemagne! Just stating the truth here, really. Now then – would you care to do a little dance with your dear old blind uncle? I do not mean to brag, but believe me when I tell you people made a _grave_ mistake to _not_ make me the Heavenly protector of Irish dance!”

“Oh my _god_.” Charlie burst out laughing. “Alright uncle Raph – you better… you better show me then!”

A loving, tender squeeze to my hand – and then she was gone.

  
**AaA  
  
**

I didn’t hear or see that much after that for a little while – but when I was finally done with getting rid of these annoying liquids leaking out of my eyes and took a gander around me, the first thing I saw was Charlie, whirling around on the dance floor. Her cheeks were puffed up and she barely managed to hold in her laughter as her uncle Raphael attempted to copy her dance movements – but instead ended up doing an eccentric sort of chorography that mostly looked like a violent, blunt _stepdance_.

Sinners dancing around them kept nervously jumping out of Raphael’s enthusiastic, stomping way, but at least Charlie looked happy, much to my delight.

Feeling a huge burden lift off my chest, I leaned back against the wall behind me.

“Hey, sinner sir?”

Gabriel’s voice sounded like its owner was very close by – and indeed, when I looked up, I noticed him. He was standing next to me, looking triumphant and satisfied, his arms folded together. He didn’t glance my way.

“Yes?” I replied nevertheless.

“After Raphael has ended his unholy chicken dance with our niece, Mike will dance with her,” the Archangel stated. He made a vague motion with his hand towards this eldest brother, who was indeed impatiently pacing back and forth in front of us, watching Raphael and Charlie with the utmost concentration. 

After a moment of hesitance, I let out a faint chuckle. “Naturally, by all means.”

“And then _I_ will dance with her,” Gabriel now _did_ glance at me. “Perhaps we will dance more dances with her. Perhaps we will even break out in a massive group dance and dazzle the whole audience with our otherworldly rhythm, making all of these sinners _pray_ for mercy (which they will not get, naturally). And yes, I know that you might think it is annoying that we will hog Charleston for ourselves instead of letting you dance with her. She – is very important to you, after all. Which we all appreciate. Very much. However, I think Mike, Raph and I deserve at least _that_ much of her time, would you not agree? For all of our _troubles_. For all that has _not_ been said, but _could_ have been said. _Should_ have been said.”

I smiled. “I’m well-aware of that.”

“Good.”

“Also, I… suppose I should offer you my gratitude. For keeping quiet about Bob.”

The long-haired Archangel frowned. “Do I know a Bob?’

“Oh ho ho, please, don’t pay my wacky words any mind! We simply happen to have a new tenant in the hotel who goes by that name. He’s a bit different from the rest of us.”

“I see,” Gabriel said. And then again, after a short pause: “…I _see_. I should have known.”

The Archangel and I both fell quiet after that. It wasn’t an awkward or unpleasant sort of quietness, though – it was a quietness that let me know that, at least for now, there was a mutual understanding between me and Charlie’s uncles. An odd, vulnerable, but very important and special kind of peace that neither one of us wanted to put down to the test.

There was a storm brewing right now, and I happened to be caught up in the center of it. And although it’s common knowledge that being trapped in the eye of the hurricane means that you’re being surrounded by the strongest and the most _dangerous_ winds, it also means that, at least for the time being, you’re in the _calmest_ and _safest_ part of the storm. Where nothing destructible happened and everything was alright.

As long as you stayed in the center of it.

As long as _I_ stayed in the center of it.

But I couldn’t stay in the center of it.

Not forever.

…

Ahh, but enough of this. I should get moving already! As long as Charlie was dancing with her overbearing uncles, there were _so_ many sinners, demons and other kinds of possibly important creatures that were in need of my attention, so many living and breathing things to forcefully mingle with! And I had to make sure to not wander off too far from Charlie’s protective bubble while engaging in these conversations, too!

Better get down to business.

  
**CcC**

**  
** I really had a _blast_ dancing with my uncles!

Uncle Raph, the very first uncle I danced with, was probably the sole living being I had ever met who, somehow, made it possible to interpret the song ‘Let Me Entertain You’ and ‘Oops I Did It Again’ as a full-fledged, legit _tap_ _dance_ _songs_. He grabbed my hand, laughed and energetically hopped around on these hits with me, with everything he got. The sharp, almost aggressive _thwacks_ of his hard shoes on the wooden floor snapped through the room, and while most of mom and dad’s guests were still very much on guard during this period of time, I could swear I saw some grin and point at uncle Raph’s crazy moves.

I wasn’t really dancing _with_ him as I was trying my best to keep my toes from getting squashed by uncle Raph’s killer feet, but I still had a lot of fun while doing it!

When uncle Raph got lost in the music (and also in the crowd that had started to gather around us), uncle Mike was quick to take in his place and sternly, yet not-impolitely asked me to dance a foxtrot with him. Before I could tell him we probably should wait for a better foxtrot-song than ‘Praise You’, he had already taken my hand, assumed the dance position and started _mowing_ the two of us _right through_ the ever-expanding sea of sinners and demons on the dance floor. It was hard to keep up with him – partly because uncle Mike danced like he was walking a military march and partly because I could hardly keep up with him, but _mostly_ because I kept cracking up over the ridiculous scene we must have caused: one _giant_ of an Archangel, mercilessly and earnestly _trampling_ around the Royal Hall as he dragged his way smaller, helpless niece around like she wasn’t even freaking _there_.

To be honest – like uncle Raph, uncle Mike had absolutely _no_ feeling for music or dancing _whatsoever,_ but he made it up with sheer, raw _determination_ to make it work, one way or another.

Eventually, uncle Gabe ‘saved’ me from his brother by smoothly convincing him to twist and twirl me away from him – and make me switch places with the female sinner uncle Gabe had been dancing with. Uncle Mike had been too focused to notice the change and kept forging on, resolutely disappearing into the dancing and hustling crowd. Speaking about the crowd – it had been growing more and more comfortable with the Archangels’ presence and, much to my contentment, nobody seemed too scared of them anymore.

While ‘Rhythm Is A Dancer’ boomed through the Royal Hall’s speakers, uncle Gabe didn’t even try to hide how happy he was he could finally dance with me and bragged loudly about his hidden talent for dancing.

“Sure, uncle Gabe,” I skeptically grinned, nodding my head into the direction of both uncle Raph (who at some point had begun a strange dance-off with a potted plant) and uncle Mike (who _still_ hadn’t noticed the terrified lady in his arms wasn’t me).

Uncle Gabe clacked his tongue and shook his head suavely – before grabbing my hand and letting me do a full, stylish pirouette, dramatically catching me back in his arms afterwards. Needless to say, I was _very_ much impressed with this clean, swift movements and stared up at him in amazement.

“ _Ha_!” he theatrically said, flashing his white, sharp teeth at me as his long hair fluttered in the non-existent wind. “Surprised? You think your annoying father was the _only_ one in our dysfunctional family that knew how to dance? _Incorrect_ , my dear Charleston, for I have some _mighty_ fine dance moves, too! And for the love of my good Father and all the stars that are twinkling in the nightly sky, you _will_ observe them and be profoundly _awed_ by them!”

“O-okay!” I stammered, getting more and more excited to dance with him the more he boasted about it. “Okay – I believe you!”

“As you should! Now, my lovely niece…” Uncle Gabe grabbed my hands, pulled me to his side and stared off into the distance, his face a perfect picture of seriousness and calm fearlessness, “…let us _polka_.”

…

…polka?

  
**CcC**  
  


Like I said, I really had a blast dancing with my uncles, and even uncle Gabe’s ridiculous, jumpy polka dancing (which involved a lot of high-kicks, skipping steps and _very slow_ and awkward twirls and turns) was something I had a lot of fun with. I hadn’t know how to polka dance yet – and as arrogant as uncle Gabe sounded, he was a wonderful, encouraging teacher when it was about… well, polka dancing. Also, yeah, he really _was_ great at it!

… _just_ at polka dancing, though.

Which was nice, but… 

I wanted to actually _dance_ with somebody already, you know? I wanted to feel the thrill of dancing around with somebody who _could_ dance, somebody who knew the way I moved, somebody who’s way of swaying to the music _I_ knew! Somebody who could make me feel the beat of the music and make me want to feel that delicious heat of another body close to mine, touching mine, joining mine, adjusting itself to the tempo of whatever dance we performed!

Yes, I wanted to dance with somebody – with somebody who loved me.

Where was Al?

I had kept half an eye on Alastor while my uncles ‘danced’ with me – I had left Al in a pretty vulnerable state, after all. He had been shaken up by my uncle’s surprising kindness towards him – kindness he _definitely_ hadn’t seen coming – and since I knew Alastor didn’t like to show weakness in public (or me making a big fuss about it), I had decided to not pay too much attention to his tears and let my uncles dance with me to their heart’s content instead.

As I bounced around with uncle Raph, I noticed Alastor had recollected himself faster than I thought he would. After talking to my other two uncles for a bit, Al had suddenly walked off and approached other, unknown sinners and demons. I wasn’t sure what he was discussing with them, but I knew his animated body language well enough to know he was being extremely vigorous and fanatical about something, as he spoke with my parents’ visitors. As per usual, most people he talked to eyed him anxiously, not sure what to do with this strange, outlandish overlord that had (abruptly!) demanded their attention. But other than being intimidating, touchy-feely and hyperactive in his manners, Alastor also was charming and engaging to talk with _,_ and I could tell that sinners, demons and overlords alike didn’t mind listening to his passionate words.

That was Al alright, I found myself thinking with an affectionate smile, as my uncles kept attempting to do something that looked like dancing with me. No matter how creepy Alastor could be and how unpredictable he was, people couldn’t help but being attracted to his personality and liveliness anyway.

I knew _I_ was.

However, now that my uncles had (finally) stopped paying attention to me and I had successfully sneaked away from them, it had come to my attention that I hadn’t seen Al or his handsome ponytail in quite a while now. Which was – unusual. And it didn’t feel _right_ , either. In fact, it _worried_ me.

With a concerned frown plastered in-between my eyes, I wandered over to the side of the dancefloor, settled down on a chair and took another long, good look around me. Some sinners greeted me as they passed me by and I replied to them with a stiff smile, while my heart’s beating was getting faster and more uptight with every minute that passed.

Where _was_ he? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three bears – a huge one, a middle-sized one and a little one – live together in a wooden cottage in the forest. The bears are all kind, good-natured and hospitable animals and they all have their own bowl, chair and bed. It’s all very cute.  
> One day, the bears make porridge for breakfast, but the gruel is too hot for them to eat right away. So they decide to take a walk, first. While they are away, a small girl named Goldilocks approaches the cabin. She’s a pretty, but unruly girl – and she sneaks into the house, looking for something to eat. She sees the porridge and furniture and proceeds to firstly eat the little bear’s porridge and break the little bear’s chair, before settling in the little bear’s bed for a nice little nap. She is pretty damn rude, really.  
> Soon after, the bears return home and discover right away that somebody’s been messing with their stuff. They all comment on how their porridge has been partly or completely eaten and the little bear is very sad to see his broken chair. They continue their quest to find the person responsible for all this discomfort, and they find Goldilocks, snoring away in the little bear’s bed (the little bear REALLY isn’t happy with her at this point). They wake the girl up and confront her with her misbehavior.  
> Goldilocks understands their anger and says she’s sorry, promising to be a good child from now on.
> 
> The English writer Joseph Cundall (1818-1895) took this story’s original version of fellow Englishman Robert Southey (1774-1843) and made some changes to it: the old woman trespassing the bear’s home changed into a pretty little girl and the old woman’s grim fate near the end of the story (some versions even have her getting impaled upon a graveyard’s steeple!) got a lot more pleasant and moralistic.


	22. The Indian Water Lilies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the last time I updated earlier, because I was supposed to go to a museum - and remember how that trip got cancelled at the very last minute, meaning that I didn't _have_ to update my fic earlier? That was pretty funny, not going to lie.  
> Now - remember how I told you last week I was going to update earlier because of the Project Week at my school?
> 
> Yeah. It happened again. XDDDDD 
> 
> The Covid-crisis has gotten too bad at last, so my country is currently having its - very sudden, yet very real - second lockdown. That means no more Project Week for me!^^;;;  
> It also means I'll be stuck at home starting from today till the 18th of January.  
> Oh well... guess my holidays are starting a little earlier than planned. It's too bad it had to come this far, but it's a good thing people are finally beginning to undertake some action. Let's hope it won't get worse!
> 
> Anyway!  
> Here are the songs that the chapter will be referring to. Please excuse the unforgivable 90s-ness of these golden oldies:  
> ['Macarena'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWaymcVmJ-A) by Los Del Rio  
> ['When You're Looking Like That'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5rmKy8H62BU) by Westlife  
> ['Freed From Desire'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3l7fgvrEKM) by GALA  
> ['Mambo No. 5'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EK_LN3XEcnw) by Lou Bega  
> ['Gaia'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7pGnnxzQk4) by Valensia  
> ['There She Goes'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CZXLLMbJdZ4) by The La's  
> ['Your Woman'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVL-zZnD3VU) by White Town  
> ['(Mucho Mambo) Sway'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubvBI1k2oPw) by Shaft  
> ['Bailamos'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sye_VxmNZA) by Enrique Iglesias  
> ['Sleeping Satellite'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lOqVQPq8zm8) by Tasmin Archer  
> ['Iris'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NdYWuo9OFAw) by the Goo Goo Dolls
> 
> Enjoy!^^

After ten nerve-wrecking minutes had passed, I almost couldn’t take it anymore. You should have seen my poor gloves – they had been twisted and tugged at so much that the opening to my right hand’s pointer finger had gotten all stretched out. 

Should I do something? Should I – try and look for him?

But I would never manage to find Alastor in a hall as big and crowded as the Royal Hall was – there were partying people swarming all over the place, and the loud, nineties music attacking my senses and mindset wasn’t helping making things any easier either. Also, usually, I’d give people I wanted to contact or find a call, but I _couldn’t_ give Al a call, because, of course, Al _didn’t_ _own_ _a_ _freaking cellphone_.

Besides, I most of the time didn’t _need_ to contact Alastor, because he somehow was always nearby anyway.

Maybe _that_ was why his sudden clear absence was so unnerving to me. It just – never happened. It felt _unnatural_.

Okay – okay. You know what? I’d wait… five more minutes. Yes. Five more minutes, and then I’d get up and start looking for him. I didn’t want to bother my uncles (they were having such a good time dancing right now), so I’d probably go to mom, first, and ask her to help me out with searching for Al. I could ask dad to help me out, too, but I don’t know… something told me I should stay clear of my father. Could be the murderous vibes I caught whenever Alastor was around or even _mentioned_ in his presence. Yeah… yeah, most _definitely_ the murderous vibes.

Wait a minute, speaking of my father – where was _he_?

My stomach turned around when I realized I hadn’t seen dad in quite a while, either. That – that could be a mere coincidence, of course… but this was a bit _too_ coincidental to my liking.

Oh god, no. He… had he _done_ something to Al? Had he been behind his sudden disappearance? Had he—

“Good evening, my fair lady!”

Both me and the chair I was sitting on almost tipped over when Alastor all of a sudden showed up, right in front of me, his usual, huge grin spread over his face. 

“How nice to finally catch you all by yourself, my beautiful darling! Good to see your uncles finally let you go off the hook, ha ha!”

Relief washed over me and my nerves instantaneously calmed down. I stared up at him, clutching my chest.

“Al, thank _god_ – _there_ you are! Where… where have you been? Are you alright? I was about to look for you, I – I thought something… had happened!”

Without actually changing his facial appearance, Alastor gave me a genuine, puzzled look, raising one eyebrow up high.

“You… thought something had happened? To _me_?”

I started to fidget with my glove again. “Uhm…”

Al smiled and curved towards me, his face nearly touching mine. “Ah, don’t fret, my love – nothing happened! I was merely mingling with all of your parents’ many colorful visitors and guests here. Such… fascinating creatures, truly. I’m sorry for worrying you, but please understand, my dear, I had to occupy myself _somehow_ during the time your three meddling uncles _selfishly_ kept you away from me…”

Before I could respond to that, a loud shout interrupted our conversation:

“Alright, dear brethren – _from the top!_ Here we _go_!”

Uncle Gabe’s sharp voice reverberating through the Royal Hall made both me and Al look at the dance floor. I let out a snorting chuckle upon seeing all three of my uncles awkwardly, yet _wholeheartedly_ dancing to the infamous Macarena-song. The cheering and applauding collection of sinners and demons surrounding them had apparently gotten _so_ used to my Heavenly uncles being here and _not_ trying to kill them, that they actively helped the three Archangels with executing the right dance moves.

Furthermore, the fancy-looking woman who uncle Mike had been dancing with had, by the looks of it, gotten over her intentional fear of him as well – and she now couldn’t get her hands off of him.

“My my – setting your sights on an actual _Archangel_ now, aren’t you?” Alastor muttered, and slowly shook his head at the sight of it. “That silly Mimzy – I always knew she had a downright _impossible_ taste in men.”

I blinked rapidly and squinted my eyes at the short and chubby, yet still quite attractive lady making heart eyes at uncle Mike (who was too caught up in rotating his hips the right way to notice her). “ _That’s_ your Mimzy? Your friend, I mean?”

Al looked back at me, wearing a half-embarrassed, half-endeared smile. “That’s my Mimzy, yes.”

“Oh, okay. She seems nice! Maybe a little bit pushy, but… nice enough!” I leaned forwards, putting my elbow up on my bent knee. “You’ve known her for a long time, Al?”

“Why, certainly! I met her many, _many_ years ago, when the both of us were still alive and kicking!” he said.

I smiled. “You were friends back then, too?”

“Oh ho ho, oh _no_ , my dear. No – she was my stalker and I killed her! Quite gruesomely, too!”

I gave Alastor a bewildered look, before uttering a soft: “O-oh.”

He saw my shocked face and shut up for a few seconds, his smile minimizing and losing that arrogant, proud shine it had when he had called Mimzy his friend earlier. Unsure what else to do, Alastor just stood there, next to my chair, and put his arms on his back. Eventually, he looked away from me.

“Shouldn’t I have told you?”

“No! I mean, yes!” I snapped out of my daze and instinctively took hold of his waist coat’s hem, as if I was afraid he’d walk away from me if I didn’t. “It’s _good_ you told me! It’s a sign that you trust me enough to tell me these kinds of things, and – and I appreciate that.”

Al still didn’t look at me and kept his eyes on the dancing masse in front of us.

“It still upset you, though.”

I sighed and combed through my hair. “Well, yeah? Can you really _blame_ me, Al? I mean, sure, I knew you did a lot of bad things when you were alive, so hearing this shouldn’t disturb me anymore, or… or at least not that _much_ , but…”

“But?”

“But you’ve _changed_ , Al.”

Upon hearing that, Alastor finally let his clashing eyes meet mine. I had gotten used to them looking the way they did: one brown of color, one red. One demonic, one humane. Which one was which? I didn’t know anymore. Nonetheless, they both were valid parts of one whole.

I couldn’t make anything of the expression Alastor was making with these strange eyes of his, except for it ensuring me that he was listening to me intently.

I quietly looked up at him from my chair – one second, two seconds, still holding on to his waist coat.

“You’ve changed. You _know_ you have. You’re not as rotten or as unsympathetic as you were when I first met you. So whenever I’m suddenly reminded that you brutally killed people – like during my uncles’ interrogation or when you told me about you and Mimzy just now – it… kind of rattles me, since that doesn’t really sound like _you_ anymore. Knowing that _that_ is _also_ still _you_ , even if it’s the _old_ you, won’t drive me away: you know that I’ve accepted that bloody side of yours a long time ago. But – it _does_ make me contemplate about stuff every once in a while. Know… know what I mean?”

“Oh yes, I do. Very much so.” His smile got more earnest again, more open. He seemed relieved. “I’m glad you’re honest about your feelings with me, Charlie. Even the conflicting ones.”

“I love you, you know?” I lowered my head and clenched the fabric of his waistcoat even tighter in-between my fingers. “I love all of you.”

There was no immediate reaction to this mumbled statement of mine. In the background, I could hear that the Macarena-song was finally coming to a close. Soon enough, one of the – no doubt funniest – highlights of the evening would come to an end. I bit my lower lip.

“Sweetheart?” Al then said, his voice strangely strained.

“Yeah?” I replied.

I _felt_ rather than _saw_ him moving closer and moments later, his shadow fell on me. My hand dropped from his clothing.

“You should know better than to mindlessly tug on my heartstrings like that, out of the blue. You leave me no other choice now.” Alastor hooked a finger underneath my chin and lifted it up, making me face him. “I have to kiss you, my pretty angel. You know what that means, don’t you?”

I momentarily tore my eyes away from him and glanced over his shoulder, to the crowd behind him. Now that the song was officially over, most of the visitors were casually bopping along on the rhythm of the music of the next song that had started to blare out of the room’s speakers. Nevertheless, a fair amount of the sinners and demons in the hall had gotten wind of us. Some of them were left open-mouthed as they observed us, waiting with bated breaths what was going on between the Radio Demon and the Princess of Hell.

I looked back at Al again and nodded a little.

“Yeah, I know what that means.”

“You don’t mind?”

“They were bound to find out about us anyway.” I tilted my head up and closed my eyes. “Go - go ahead, Al.”

Barely had I spoken out his name, or he pressed his lips to mine. Meeting no resistance, Al calmly invaded my mouth, intensifying his kiss and making my jittery heart flutter up. His large hands slid around my neck carefully, his fingers massaged my jawline and cheeks, caressing my face and keeping it perfectly in place as he all but drank me, gobbled me all up. Shuddering, I raised my unsteady arms up high and reached out to him, slithering them behind his back and clasping the fabric of his waistcoat tightly in-between my fists. I could feel two of the chair’s back legs lift up from the floor as I pulled myself flush against Al and continued moving my mouth to his in the same slow, enticing tempo he had decided for our sensual kiss.

When eventually he removed his lips from mine – and gingerly pushed my chair back down to the floor, before it’d slip and topple over – he grinned broadly, _happily_ , wheezing a little as he brushed a thumb over my reddened lips. He didn’t say anything and neither did I – I was too busy panting and beaming at him, affectionately rubbing my hands over his back.

At a certain point, however, a new song broke through our private bubble. I recognized it – it was ‘When You’re Looking Like That’, yet _another_ clichéd nineties song – and upon hearing the first sentences of this _incredibly_ cheesy _, sickeningly_ gushy number, Alastor let go of me completely and backed off a little. He regained his composure, cleared his throat and hastily fixed his ponytail – and let me tell you, watching all of that was pretty _adorable_ – and then, he made a small, gallant bow for me.

“Now, my lovely Charlie. You had to wait for it for quite a while, and so did I, but…”

My already flushed cheeks blushed even more heavily when I saw he raised his hand, twisted it around and offered it to me.

“…may I have this dance?” 

I didn’t even see all of the guests’ intrusive stares or the familiar, foreboding dark clouds packing themselves together above a certain person in the Royal Hall – all I could see was Al and the hand he held up to me. Delighted, I sat up some more and let my hand glide into his, smiling warmly at Alastor as his hand enclosed itself around mine.

“This and every other dance.”

  
**III**

**  
**Oh, _bother_.

Much to my dismay, there was a fair bit of ruckus going on in the Royal Hall after… all that.

I could hardly even hear the melody of the current song (something with ‘free’ and ‘desire’ in its title, I believe), which was a shame: I found it to be terribly charming. Was this song an example of a musical hit that young people found ‘in’ these days? Well in that case, I was happy that I heard it. Fads blew over so fast, so I was delighted to at least be at the beginning of a new one now.

Ah, but yes. Never mind the music – I was musing about the current _unrest_ in the hall.

I had fruitlessly hoped that the chaos would lessen as soon as Alastor and Charlie had finished essentially humping each other in public and made their way over to the dance floor. It _did_ lessen, in all fairness – but bit by bit, _very_ gradually. It was oh so _annoying_ : for the longest time, I could only hear the buzzing voices of sinners, demons and overlords alike, aggressively gossiping to one other about what _outrageous_ scene had just taken place in front of them:

“Did you see that? Hey, hey – did you _see that_?”

“Holy fucking _shit_ , dude!”

“I would appreciate it if you would kindly unhand me, miss sinner lady.”

“What the crap is going on?”

“It is just _very_ inappropriate is all.”

“Has the princess been fucking the Radio Demon? You know, _that_ Radio Demon?”

“No, I do not need the key to your hotel door. Why would I need the key to your hotel door?”

“I heard some rumors about them being an item but _damn_ , I never thought it was actually true…”

“But good madam, I have a bed of my own!”

I sighed, tapped my chin with an elegant finger and stopped listening to the continuous stream of excited rumors and confused murmurs circling around the Royal Hall’s dance floor. It clearly had been too long since the last time something _exciting_ had occurred in Hell… 

Oh, well. Taking everything in consideration, I suppose it was nothing but normal they all would rattle on about that cute little stunt Alastor and Charlie had pulled off. Of course, they _could_ have simply officially _announced_ that they were romantically involved with one another, but blatantly making out at a Royal party with an _extremely_ omnifarious public most _certainly_ did the trick as well. It perhaps did the trick even _better,_ I had to say.

Lost in thought and consciously keeping myself from looking at Luci next to me, my heavy eyes followed the smooth, fluid movements of the couple’s enthusiastic cha-cha-dancing, soaring over on the dance floor. It was adorably obvious that this wasn’t the first time the two of them danced together. Their eager bodies were too well-adjusted to one another, their feet knew exactly what to do and their radiant faces displayed how much both Alastor and Charlie enjoyed dancing with their partner. They allowed the rest of the room to bear witness to their love and affections for one another without giving it a second thought, without holding _anything_ back.

Needless to say, they were quite captivating to watch. Or… what was that word? Wholesome? Yes. Wholesome.

My daughter had been in love many times before – _long_ before Alastor _or_ his parents had even been as much as mere _concepts_. Ever since Luci’s Dad-knows-how-much-time-ago, our Charlie had always foolishly chased after love like it was a _necessity_ , a _requirement_ to even be _alive_. Our sweet apple beignet was nothing but an unfortunate slave of her own heart – and every time she had been convinced she had found ‘the right one’ for her, _oh_ , how _hard_ , _unforgiving_ and _brutal_ the downfall was, when her lover didn’t turn out to be all that wonderful after all. But it never let her down. No matter how many girl- and boyfriends had played with her feelings and ditched her the moment things turned serious or sour, Charlie never stopped believing in and looking for love… and finding it at the weirdest places and/or in the most unorthodox figures.

I had liked for Charlie to find a partner that suited her. Somebody just as idealistic, passionate and strong-willed as she was. Somebody that, kind of like her, _accidentally_ came to exist in Hell, by a cruel twist of fate.

Never had I believed she’d ever find them.

Hell was a harsh, depressing place. I had dwelled in this hopeless pit of fire and doom long enough to confidently claim that Hell just _wasn’t_ a part in this universe you’d like to call ‘home’. Staying down here for too long… it eventually _corrupted_ people. For example, even in the few cases Charlie had actually brought home a soul that was relatively nice and good-natured, it had only been a matter of time before they, too, got consumed by hate, despair and greed, and ended up hurting my poor daughter in the end.

I always felt bad for Charlie when that happened, but I couldn’t blame the sinners. They couldn’t help it. This was simply something Hell _did_ to them. Hell was a foul punishment of God. It was nothing but a _hole_ where the scum of the earth didn’t only lose all of their remaining hope, but every shred of their _humanity_ as well.

Now I didn’t want to say that Alastor was the most _bizarre_ lover Charlie had ever chosen (my darling girl had dated far too many bullshit trash-persons for that), but he most _definitely_ was a pick I hadn’t seen coming. He was a vile, violent, touch-repulsed serial killer – seemingly the complete opposite of what _she_ was. The Radio Demon had slaughtered many, both in life as well as in death, and he had been way _beyond_ redemption before even setting a single step in Hell.

He also was a _liar_ , a _manipulator_ and a _fraud_.

So, no. I wasn’t convinced Alastor was ‘the right one’ for her.

However, it was at times like these – when I saw him dancing with my daughter, gazing lovingly at her, holding her in his arms in a way that left nothing to one’s imagination – it was at times like these that I knew that I had made the right call protecting him from my endearingly murderous husband.

Alastor might not be ‘the right one’ for Charlie.

But he could simply be ‘the one’ for her.

  
**III**

**  
**Right – I had to face my darling husband at _some_ moment… might as well let that moment be right now. Who knows, perhaps I was able to soothe his no-doubt raging thoughts by feeling him up a little and convince him to fetch me a cocktail drink. I could go for a Vesper. I’d _kill_ for a Vesper.

So I looked over to him, my lips parting as I was thinking of what to say to him. I still wasn’t sure _what_. What could I possibly tell Lucifer to keep him from developing even more hostile feelings towards our daughter’s dapper dance partner? What kind of dreaded, unfathomable _hate_ was roaming free inside his boisterous brains right now? What foul, _evil_ things would leave his kissable mouth, the moment he found a chance to say anything at all? 

“What a lovely evening,” Lucifer jovially announced.

I stared at him, baffled.

Upon closer inspection, my husband seemed to be – perfectly fine, actually? I could have sworn he had been seething with rage for a while now, but no, here he was, whistling and nodding his head to the beat of the music just a little, and he glanced up at me, his big, shiny teeth flashing a bright smile at me.

“This party be _booming,_ Lili!”

I let my eyes rest on my tiny, positively puny partner and batted my eyes at him so frantically that I feared my lashes would fall off.

“Yes,” I eventually replied, “this party of yours seems to be a big success, apple pie. The music is fine, the drinks are great and there is a very easy-going ambiance all together – a whole new experience to me, really, but it’s not bad, it’s not bad at all, even. Also, your three brothers seem to be having the grandest time of their lives, performing some earthy dancing rites with that group of morally-questionable degenerates and Hell-spawns over there. How endearing. There is a good chance they might end up cursed or tainted forever after this evening – but it’s still very endearing.”

Lucifer threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t worry! My disgustingly perfect brothers need a whole lot more than some stupid human sacrificial dancing to end up cursed, my seductive, beautiful batwoman! What’s most important is that they are having a blast! This probably is the best fucking party they’ve ever been to! Right? Wouldn’t you agree that this party is like that, Lili?”

Lucifer almost hopped side to side in excitement as he looked up at me and grinned, his already red cheeks reddening even more.

I didn’t get this sudden change in his demeanor.

But I didn’t mind. I now didn’t have to waste some of my precious time on calming him down after all, and for that, I was grateful.

So I smiled a rare, pleased smile at Hell’s most attractive ruler and lowered myself a tiny bit, slowly dragging a teasing finger over his handsome, white and facial features. Lucifer let me, blinking confusedly at me. Ugh. That oval, puppet-like _face_ of his… he was just so _cute_.

I still hesitated a little about voicing my next comment out loud – but since he looked more stable (or should I say, resigned?) than I had seen in a while now, I decided to take my chances.

“Charlie seems to be having fun, too.”

For a split-second, there was a dark hint of… _something,_ crackling through his smiling face. But then it was gone again and Luci took my hand from his cheek, pressing a firm kiss atop of it.

“She really does, doesn’t she?”

“Mhm-mhm.” I watched him enthusiastically slobbering all over my hand. “You seem okay with all of this.”

Lucifer planted a last wet kiss to my hand and raised his head again, sniggering. “I am!”

“You are?”

“You bet your bouncy, big and beautiful butt-cheeks I am!”

I wiped my now-drenched hand off on the dress of a female sinner standing next to me.

“Why is that?”

“Hmm?”

“Your pitfalls didn’t work. That assassin you hired – who stupidly plunged into one of said pitfalls – didn’t succeed, either. Charlie hasn’t talked a lot to you ever since greeting us in the entrance hall and you just watched her make out with the sole sinner in this entire room you’d like to see burn for eternity. In _public_.”

“Ayup.”

“You’re okay with all of that?”

“That's right.”

“By why? You—”

“Well _shit_ , you sound a bit hoarse, my huge, pulchritudinous Demoness of Fate and Sexy-Times! Did you sing along with these fucking dumb ceremonial songs a bit too much this evening?” Lucifer abruptly said, letting out a short, maniacal laugh. “We can’t have _that_ now! Can your unworthy bastard of a husband get you something to drink?”

“Well.” Once again, I rolled my eyes. “You might as well could've just told me 'I don't want to explain', because _that_ was your _least_ subtle attempt to change subjects, ever.”

Lucifer shrugged. “It was a valiant attempt though!”

“No it wasn’t. It was dumb.”

Lucifer didn’t elaborate – and since he was ticking me off by his insistence of not-elaborating, I didn’t say anything either. Like that, the atypical silence in-between us was getting thick and agonizing quickly.

Good.

“Uhm. So – would the pretty lady like a drink? Any drink?” he eventually asked, his voice smoother than butter, and he carefully glided a hand around my waist.

“Sure,” I said, my own voice flat and void of any emotion. “Make it a Negroni.”

“A Negroni? Not a Vesper?”

“I’ll take the Negroni, thank you very much.” I shot him an angry look. “After getting rebuffed like that, I’m up for something _bitter_.”

Wincing and laughing feebly at that biting remark, Lucifer hastily made himself scarce and disappeared from my sight. 

I clacked my tongue dismissively.

Asshole.

He was lucky he was cute.

  
**CcC**

**  
**I was a bit reluctant about… going all out with my dancing.

I had seen the looks on the party’s invitees’ faces, shortly after Alastor had pulled me up from the chair and onto the dance floor. I had seen the confusion, the bewilderment, the exchanged glances and the hands, covering up mouths as sinners and demons muttered about me and Al. Their eyes were big and following our every move, their expressions wild mixes of pity, hilarity, disbelieve and uncertainty. They were collectively discussing me and Alastor – and the thought of them judging us because of what we had become… it made me flustered and unfocused.

As confident as I was before, when I encouraged Alastor to just kiss the ever-loving crap out of me in front of a puzzled public, as nervous I was right after, when I was standing in the middle of the Royal Hall, feeling everybody’s eyes glued to me.

The upbeat song playing in the background was entertaining and challenging me to start dancing already, but it – it just wasn’t _enough_ for me or my shaky legs to jump into action already, and I felt like a complete idiot.

Then Alastor squished my face between his thumb and forefinger, turning it so that I could look at him, and at him only. He looked _very_ excited, in spite of all the weird attention, and his eyes were overflowing with confidence. It was, in a way, strangely _comforting_ for me to behold.

“Forget about them, my love. Imagine it’s just you and me in the ballroom of the hotel.”

I tried laughing – it sounded more like shrieking. “It’s… kind of hard to do that when everybody’s staring at us like that, Al.”

“Kind of hard? Ha ha! Well, not for _me_ it isn’t! I’m an _entertainer_ , my dear! Being in the center of everyone’s attention is what I _live_ for! In all honesty, I’d feel gravely _insulted_ if they _hadn’t_ begun looking at us, _especially_ after that delicious kiss we shared! Thank you for agreeing to do that with me, by the by. It lifted my spirits.”

Al grinned, took my hand in his and put his other hand on my waist. Then he started to shift his feet to the familiar steps of the quickstep, his brusque and brimming movements forcing my queasy body to react to his and follow his lead.

“So _naturally_ they’re staring at us, Charlie,” he continued, as I stumbled along. “Why, they _should_ be staring at us!”

I had to work hard to keep up with him, since my thoughts were still a jumbled mess. “You – you really think so, huh?” 

Alastor gave me a secretive smile, guiding me across the dancing hall with relative ease.

“Oh, my beautiful, darling Charlie…”

He paused as he pushed me away from him, caught up with me again and wrapped his arms around me. Then he twirled me around some more and I heard myself yelp when I felt his leg meeting the back on my own legs. He had a strong hold on me, though, and instead of falling, I was being dipped low.

“…do you know what a fine couple we make? Do you even remotely realize just what a _wonderful_ match you and I are? How _natural_ it is for us to be together?”

I stared up at him, my chest raising and falling gently. _God_ he looked _hot_ from this angle. 

“I – I think so.”

Al pulled me upright again and pressed me to his body. He felt warm and even though this had only been the very first dance, his heart was already bumping fiercely against his chest.

“Then show me. You can show them as well, for all I care – but show _me,_ first. Humor me. Entertain me. Dance with me, with everything you got. Have no fear of what ‘they’ might think or say about us – just have some good old _fun_! As long as you yourself believe we should be together, like _I_ believe we should, nobody has got _anything_ on us, my love.”

He, once more, got hold of my face and tilted it up again. His face was – _impossible_ close to mine and my eyes got half-lidded when he leaned in, giving me another sweet kiss. I needed that and stood on the tips of my toes to kiss him back harder.

“I get it,” I breathed when I pulled back. “And I’ll show you.”

Al licked his lips and nodded, intrigued. “That’s more like it, my dear.”

  
**CcC**

**  
**Things got a lot more fun and pleasant for me, as soon as I had thrown out my initial reserve out of the window and just allowed myself to dance to my heart’s content. I forgot about my insecurities and whatever my parents or their visitors would think of us and just – let myself get lost into the many dances Alastor roped me into.

When the cheerful song ‘Mambo No. 5’ began to play, Al didn’t start to dance a typical mambo with me – but he initiated a quick-paced jive, which, in the end, was a way better-fitting dance for a song _this_ jittery and quirky. I didn’t even have to think about the dance, not with Al as my lead: he simply pulled me with him, persuaded me into the right directions, spun me around and made me laugh out loud by momentarily switching to a mambo near the end of the song anyway.

When the weird and overbearing song ‘Gaia’ was thundering around the room, Alastor didn’t falter and smacked his body to mine, his hand gripping the small of my back, making it sway from left to right for a bit, before a _killing_ Viennese waltz broke lose. However, now that I had decided to simply have fun, it was easy for me to keep up with Al’s impressive footwork and many turns and twists. It _was_ hard for me to keep myself from snorting at the dramatic lyrics of the song, though, and even harder when Al made a few very comical ‘what the hell is up with this damn song’—faces.

There were many songs and dances that followed up these ones – another quickstep to ‘There She Goes’, a cheeky tango to ‘Your Woman’, a sensual mambo to ‘Sway’ and a playful cha-cha to ‘Bailamos’, just to name a few – and they were all equally enjoyable for me to dance to. Not only because I just happened to love the combination of corny songs and because Alastor was – freaking _amazing_ at making every song _more_ than just a little danceable, but also because they made me lose track of time.

Therefore, when the mellow and relatively gentle-sounding ‘Sleeping Satellite’ was the next song in line – and Al and I wordlessly chose to pick this old classic as the one song we’d use to catch our breaths on – I finally found myself glancing around us, as I leaned into Al during our slow dancing.

Nobody was looking at us anymore, I noticed, nor were we still the only ones dancing. It looked like the dance floor had eventually become crowded again after the guests had gotten over their first shock of seeing me and Alastor smooching and dancing together. Although Al had swimmingly managed to distract me from the gaping, stupefied faces, I still felt incredibly _relieved_ to see we were just one of the many couples huddled together on the dance floor now – and I sighed deeply, wrapping my arms around Alastor and nuzzling my face into his white dress shirt.

“You see?” I heard him softly say to me, while one of his hands curled my hair around its fingers. “Nobody’s staring anymore. You’ve convinced them.”

“Apparently.” I closed my eyes for a bit. “I’m sorry for taking away your gawking audience.”

Al rested his head on top of mine. “That’s alright. Gawking lowlifes get boring after a while.”

I chuckled. “Wow – you’re even critical about the people giving you the attention you so desperately _crave_ for. You’re not easy to please, are you?”

“I only want the best of the best.” Al gave me a snug squeeze. “Hence why I ended up with you, my dear.”

“M-my god, Al…”

“It _had_ to be you, Charlie.” He made me shiver when he put away a lock of hair behind my ear. “You _know_ it had to be you.”

Getting compliments like that all of a sudden – it was too much for me. My face flared up aggressively and I rubbed it against his chest some more, as if I wanted to completely bury myself within him. Alastor chortled, his body shaking to the vibrations of his laughter. I smiled as well, since I just _had_ to, whenever Al laughed like _that_ – so unconcerned, so unguarded, so _genuine_.

I moved my hands over his back. His lanky, tall body was like the map of a country I had explored many times already. I nowadays knew this country very well and I liked it – _loved_ it, even, and no matter how many times I’d return to it, I knew I’d end up discovering new delights, new, interesting places I had yet to chart.

I cherished it all.

He smelled so nice tonight.

He felt so nice tonight.

He sounded so nice tonight.

Wait… _sounded_?

Listening closely, I raised my face from his chest, gazing up at him. A new song was playing yet again – and Al was quietly humming along with it.  
  


_‘And I’d give up forever to touch you,  
because I know that you feel me somehow  
You’re the closest to Heaven that I’ll ever be  
and I don’t want to go home right now._

_And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Sooner or later it’s over,  
I just don’t want to miss you tonight.’  
  
_

Oh my GOD.

Al was humming a cheesy love song.

Al was humming a cheesy love song.

_Al was humming a cheesy love song!_

I shut my opened mouth, gulped and hugged him tighter, as cautiously as I was able to, hoping with all of my heart he’d do it – that he’d actually sing out loud. Please let him sing out loud – please, please, please let him sing it out loud.

Alastor had sung out loud more often, of course: Al had a great voice and he was fully aware of this. Therefore, he sang a _lot_ , and he sang unabashed, unashamed, unfazed by what others might feel about it. That was just what he did – that was just how Al _was_. He’d sing a song if he felt like it and that was that, end of story.

But not a love song.

 _Never_ a love song.

Probably because it was too corny for him, or too… below his standards or something.

But oh. 

_Oh_ what I wouldn’t _give_ to hear Alastor sing a love song…!

“Out of the question,” Al decisively said, when he eventually took notice of my insistent staring and after I had told him what was on my mind. “I apologize, my love, but I’m _not_ going to sing you an embarrassing love song like _this_ one. Not _now_ , at least.”

I had been prepared for a very solid and definitive **no** , so hearing that there actually was a fair chance he _would_ do it, made me perk up my ears.

“Does that mean you _will_ sing me a love song one day?” I hopefully asked him.

He made a face. “Well. I guess I foiled myself just now, didn’t I?”

“You don’t have to sing to me if you don’t feel like it,” I was quick to say, drawing patterns on his chest, “…but, well…”

“Yes…?”

“I _love_ your voice.” I smiled upon his almost-but-just-not-yet-frowning face and placed a swift kiss to his chin. “I’d love to hear you singing me a love song with that amazing voice of yours. I heard many variations of it already: when you’re happy, when you’re annoyed, when you’re sad, when you’re sleepy. When you’re holding back. When you’re _not_ holding back.”

Alastor eyed me silently, watching me down my own saliva and clutch his waistcoat with clammy hands.

I tried to compose myself and continued: “I… I want to know what it sounds like when it does something like _that_. When you – sing a love song to me.”

“Alright. It’s settled then: I’ll sing a love song to you one of these days, I promise.” Al pressed a warm hand to my damp, sticky, worked-up face and snickered, his eyes glistering knowingly. “But my goodness, Charlie – if it means that much to you and if the mere thought of it alone gets you _this_ sexually aroused, you should have told me sooner, you _lewd_ little thing.”

“I’m – I’m not _that_ aroused,” I muttered, staring at him so hard it kind of hurt.

“Charlie, you are literally undressing me with your eyes right now. And I… you…”

He stopped mid-sentence. Alastor’s equally hazy gaze traveled further down my yearning figure as he took in the sight of me, panting rigidly for entirely _different_ reasons than all the dancing we had done before. I saw _he_ saw the red blotches on my uncovered flesh, the twitching of my hands. I noticed _he_ noticed the burning desire in my eyes, the permission he had to do whatever he wanted to do to me. I swallowed when he swallowed, his hand on my face slowly sliding down to my naked shoulder. It had grown rather sweaty.

“Charlie,” he started over, “I…”

“Have I ever showed you my bedroom?” I blurted out all of a sudden.

His eyes grew bigger. “Excuse me?”

“My – my bedroom. My bedroom _here_.” I darted my tongue over my dry lips and snatched his hand from my shoulder. “I want to show it to you.”

Alastor didn’t answer me right away; he was staring at my mouth, now shining a little because of my tongue’s efforts.

“Al.” I tugged on his hand. “Can I show you?”

Alastor inhaled and exhaled in a brave effort to keep his breathing under control. In the end, he simply nodded, bending his head towards me and brushing my hair out of the way, before whispering hotly into my ear that he wanted me to please keep on the dress, at least for the first round.

Then he _blew_ into my ear and I all but dignifiedly mewled in response. With a racing heart, I pushed him back, my head spinning. It was a pretty hilarious response, I can imagine – but Alastor looked wound up and bothered, _too_ wound up and bothered to laugh at the result of his teasing.

He longed for me as well.

Not wanting to waste any more time, I pointedly gestured to the door at the other end of the room, keeping my eyes on his all the while. My voice sounded tense and provocative when I finally spoke up.

“Follow me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Far, far away, in the Indian jungle, there lies a small and mysterious lake. Every full moon, the Moon Goddess and hundreds of twinkling starts come down from the night sky to dance and party hard on the lake’s surface, in-between the beautifully floating water lilies. They all dance to the mysterious, enchanting singing voice of a Witch, who’s always standing beside a majestic waterfall.  
> The dancing is very nice and all, but comes dawn, the Moon Goddess claps her hands, reminding her sparkly underlings that it’s time for them to return to the skies. Most of the time, this goes well… but one night, seven stars disobey the Moon Goddess and continue to dance on the lake. The Witch is infuriated by their insolence and the rebellious stars are heavily punished: they are changed into fairies, trapped into the water lilies they love so much by daytime and forced to dance on the lake during nighttime. They now need to do this until the end of time, never getting another chance to rise up to the skies ever again.
> 
> This little fairy tale was made up by the Belgium Queen Fabiola (1928-2014): she had once written a storybook with at least twelve little tales in it, and this story was one of them. Although it’s not very well-known in most countries, it’s a VERY famous one in the Netherlands and Belgium, since the amusement park De Efteling made an indoor puppet show (with some really catchy music to it) out of it. It’s one of my favorite depictured fairy tales there, to be honest – and I don’t even like puppet shows!


	23. Snow White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning: this will be a pretty smutty chapter!**
> 
> By now, I think most of you know what kind of smut I usually write. It's mostly cute, awkward, fluffy stuff - and I think that this chapter is much like that, too. But... well, still?^^;;; This might be the smuttiest chapter/piece I've written yet, so just in case: I put a warning up here.  
> I'm fairly proud of this chapter though! It wasn't easy to write and I needed way more time to write the right words (if that makes any sense), but I still very much enjoyed writing it. Hopefully, you'll enjoy reading it! 8DDDD 
> 
> _*hides in bushes*_

With a mind that was clouded by nothing but lust and desire, I had no restraint whatsoever when I kicked open Charlie’s bedroom door and brought the two of us inside of the quiet, dark room.

I had an armful of Charlie with me as I stumbled into the secluded room. She clung to me – her legs wrapped around my hips tightly, her warm hands gripping my face, her eyes closed, her lips firmly screwed onto mine. I could taste the sensation of her ragged, sweet, aroused wheezing on my taste buds as she kissed me, deeply and roughly. I didn’t care how light-headed I was starting to get because of the sheer lack of air – I wanted to savor _more_ of Charlie, I wanted more of this perfect woman, more and more and more, until I couldn’t see straight anymore, until all I breathed was _her_.

It wasn’t just me. Charlie was at the end of her rope, too. Her feverish, desperate, openmouthed kisses had become sloppy and messy, the more my moist lips crushed themselves together with hers. She moaned impatiently, slipped her tongue into my mouth, suckled greedily on my own, licked the saliva off my mouth and slid her hands into my hair. Gripping my scalp and gasping my name against my opened lips without saying anything, her eyes opened up at last, giving me a hooded look that made my blood boil and overwhelmed my senses.

I wanted to fuck her.

I wanted to fuck her _so much._

I slammed our mouth together again and eagerly took in every quivering mewl that left her wet lips.

More than a little pent-up and shaking all over my stiffened body, I threw a hand behind me, felt the edge of the elegant bedroom door meeting my touch – and slammed it shut with a sound thud. I had expected the room to instantly become dark, but the light of the corridor shone through the decorative transom window above the crosspiece of the door. It helped me with finding my wobbly way to Charlie’s bed, which I could vaguely make out of the shadowy shapes behind her.

There was no time to lose, there was nothing to be said. I simply brought Charlie over to her bed, unceremoniously dropped the both of us down on top of it and crawled all over her the second her back hit the velvety-soft duvet, never stopping to remove my lips from hers. I grunted, clutched her fancy clothing from behind and started dragging Charlie upwards, to the center of the bed. Charlie wrapped her arms around my neck and let it all just happen. 

It was unusual we didn’t speak. Since both me and Charlie were fairly talkative people, we pretty much _always_ had something of a dialogue going on during sex, or at _least_ during the foreplay-bit. Our nonsensical banter had always been very reassuring for me in the beginning, when I still had no clue about what I should do or _how_ I should do it. But in this very moment, in which Charlie shamelessly pulled up the ruffled skirt-part of her dress, bit down on her lower lip and spread her legs a little wider for me, we both knew talking was the _last_ thing on our minds. One of her ungloved hands reached down and I shuddered, watching her making fine tears in the middle of her refined pantyhose with her fingernails.

It was then when I realized I indeed was going to make love to Charlie in her showy, sophisticated attire she wore so well and hugged her body so _nicely_ … so naturally, my mouth started to water. I had liked to take in the wonderful sight of the beautiful Princess of Hell, _unabashedly_ offering herself to me, a bit longer – but then I noticed, in the faint light coming from the hallway, how one of Charlie’s restless hands now attempted to lay itself onto her thinly-clad groin. Charlie laughed breathlessly when I shook my head at her in a beseeching manner, and she obediently let her hand drop to the side, shivering when I put my fingers into the rips of her pantyhose – and made a _much_ bigger opening into it, straightaway.

The sound of ripping fabric and the air hitting her hot, suddenly exposed lower body made Charlie suck in a thick gulp of breath, while I just gaped at what I saw right in front of me.

Or _didn’t_ see right in front of me.

Charlie wasn’t wearing underwear.

Slowly, I turned away from Charlie’s already glistering-wet, pleading womanhood and met her twinkling eyes. Charlie looked at me with a blushing, bright-red face that gave me an embarrassed, nervous smile and a naughty, lewd grin at the very same time.

My goodness.

She really _was_ something in-between an angel and a devil.

I felt my cheeks redden and I internally debated with myself for a bit about whether I should feel turned on by this dirty, yet compelling discovery… or simply be immensely _enamored_ by Charlie’s own, cute, obviously conflicted feelings about the situation she had willfully put herself in. In the end however, my thoughts were too distracted by too many shreds of emotions and carnal needs to form an opinion on it at all, and I therefore simply began to undo my pants with one hand. The other one took hold of one of Charlie’s faltering legs and gently hooked it over my shoulder.

Charlie’s chest heaved up and down faster than before when I moved closer to her. The faint light outside the room partially fell on her face – the lower side of her face, to be exact. I could see the blemishes her own intense blushing had left on her chest and in her neck, and her lips – her _heavenly_ lips – were plump, nice and red, thanks to the many kisses I had assaulted them with. 

I brought my erection to her slit and without much ado, I pushed forwards. I made sure to enter her slowly and steadily, though. Simply _plunging_ _in_ and getting a move on would most likely cause one of us to climax sooner than we both wanted to, or so I suspected… so I took my time sinking into her, _completely_ into her, until our bodies connected and I was snugly sheathed within Charlie’s warm, flushed body.

As I heard Charlie’s breathing pick up speed as well and felt her other leg wound itself around my middle, I firmly pressed my lips together and buried my nails into the bedding my panting and twitching lover laid on. I quietly urged my soaring thoughts and already _rapidly_ approaching orgasm to slow down a little – to let me catch my breath for a while. I _had_ to. She simply – felt _so_ good… so very _good_ …

“A-Al…”

My eyes snapped open again. When Charlie’s fingers folded themselves around my wrists and her lips parted to make way for a particularly _filthy_ little whine, I finally started to move. Charlie uttered an ecstatic moan upon feeling me move within her at last, immediately followed up by another one, and yet another one. Her cries never got too loud this time though, and for some reason, her soft, subdued sobs of passion, in combination with her blooming, concentrated face, made it even more erotic for me to watch.

I inhaled deeply. _Lord_ if she didn’t look like the most beautiful, most entrancing being I had ever laid my eyes on. Charlie’s dress rustled rhythmically in time with our movements as I steadily pushed myself into its sighing and compliant owner, over and over again. It was both an annoyance (all that frilly _tulle!_ ) as it was bizarrely _exciting_ , thrusting into Charlie while she wasn’t even _naked_ yet, not even her _legs_.

“I need m-more, please… _please_ …”

The second Charlie started begging me for more, I increased my tempo and pounded into her hot entrance harder, _much_ harder. I did as I was told, since seeing a whimpering Charlie fall apart in the most wonderful way was a truly _spectacular_ sight to behold – but it was getting _too much_ for me, and just as I painstakingly clenched my teeth and wondered _how much longer_ before Charlie would reach her peak, she arched her back and gasped out my name.

“Ah… _Al_ —!”

She trembled and flinched underneath me vehemently, her hands squeezing my arms. Her legs both constricted themselves around my waist and shoulder, pulling me in even further.

I exhaled at last, letting out an audible breath of relief. Now that Charlie had climaxed, I allowed myself to try and come as well - but not before I felt the tender grip of Charlie, prying my hands off the bed’s covers a little and slipping her own, shaky fingers in-between their openings. This small, endearing, lovely gesture amidst all the heavy groaning, shoving and _tightening_ proved to be the last straw. It made me lose my balance and control, and when the rush fogged up my vision and a special kind of bliss washed over me entirely, Charlie yanked me down on top her, trapping me into her sweaty embrace. She humming weakly, yet contently, as I kissed her neck and spilled myself inside of her.

  
**AaA  
  
**

Eventually, when Charlie and I were lying next to one another and let our hysterical heartbeats calm down again, I found myself turning to my side, gazing at Charlie’s damp, soft lips. Before I could even think about stopping myself, I reached out to her face and brushed the back of my fingers over her mouth.

Charlie, still beat and catching her breath from our recent activities, raised her glassy eyes up and smiled at me, pressing a kiss to my wandering fingers.

I smiled back at her and scooted closer to her. Charlie wiggled closer to me as well, cupping my face and leaning into me when I took my chance and pressed a quick peck to her lips.

While Charlie ‘s eyes fluttered shut and she dozed off a little, I continued looking at her mouth for a bit longer.

  
**AaA  
  
**

I loved Charlie’s mouth.

Everything started with her mouth. Everything ended with it. Even our lovemaking just now. It was an never-ending circle.

There was a certain silky, smooth and pleasing aesthetic to it. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, I... suppose I simply enjoyed and appreciated it. Come to think of it: I had _always_ enjoyed and appreciated Charlie’s fascinating, _charming_ little mouth one way or another - even starting from the very start, when I hadn’t fallen for her yet. I had simply liked the way her voice sounded and how her lips moved, whenever she addressed me. It sounded nice and I was genuinely looking forward to… well, seeing the princess’ mouth form the letters that spelled out my given name.

Just that. Only that.

In those strange, unsure beginnings, Charlie used to approach me with a fair amount of reasonable caution, her mouth nothing but a doubtful, unstable rim. She knew who and what I was, after all – she was fully aware of what kind of sick, twisted mind had wandered into her hotel. Later, however, when we started spending more time together, it came to my attention that Charlie’s lips had this habit of curling into full-blown, kind _smiles_ whenever she talked to me.

Her tentative attitude changed – even stronger put, her whole _opinion_ about me changed, and her lips had been the unwitting, yet willing carriers of that secret message.

The more time we conversed and got to know one another, the more I fell for her – and the more I fell for her, the more I longed to know _more_ about her lips.

I wanted to know how I could make them curve upwards even more.

I wanted to know how many versions of her smiles were only available for _me_.

I wanted to know how they would feel against mine.

When we finally exchanged kisses for the very first time, it felt like something save, certain and stubborn _snapped_ within me. _Harsh_ and _violently_ and _thoroughly_ , almost as if something wanted to make sure that _that_ , _whatever_ it was that had gotten broken, wasn’t going to get patched up again any day soon.

It was ruined forever, as soon as Charlie had impulsively thrown her arms around my neck and placed her reckless lips on mine.

Now I – I had never been kissed before, up to that point.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what she expected of me. Why, I didn’t even know what _I_ expected of me! Fortunately, however, the pent-up frustration within me made it all easier for me: it only took one sudden kiss from the one I had fallen in love with to _completely_ topple my wavering perseverance over, make me haul all of my natural reserve overboard and answer Charlie’s questioning mouth with a desperate kind of aggression I had never felt before.

Therefore, I’m sure those first few kisses we exchanged were rather _painful_ for Charlie.

My confused feelings were all over the place. I had no experience whatsoever. Furthermore, my teeth were _sharp, big_ and – just plain _inconvenient_. I cut her tongue and made her mouth bleed from the inside more than once, surely, simply because I had no clue on how to kiss her like I was _supposed_ to kiss her. I remember feeling her squirm in my hands as I viciously gripped her face and kissed her with an intensity I felt most embarrassed about nowadays. Yes, kissing me hurt her – I was sure it did.

But Charlie didn’t mind. Not _once_ did she complain about the wounds I caused, whenever I awkwardly gave in to temptation and attacked those full lips of hers again. The way her mouth would sting after sharing kisses with me, kisses that were _far_ too uncomfortable to be really enjoyable – she accepted all that agony _wholeheartedly_. She would readily hold me, patiently let me kiss her as much as I wanted to kiss her, and that’s why, gradually, I found a way to kiss Charlie in a way that _wouldn’t_ leave her precious mouth raw and bruised.

Oh I had gotten _much_ better, by the by. I simply _knew_ I had. Why, I even dared to say I probably was one of the better kissers Charlie had ever had! A bold statement – but it is what it is!

Still though: it had been quite the process, in more ways than one can possibly imagine. Even now, as I gazed at Charlie’s glossy lips and thought about how much pleasure they had brought me, I once more found myself wondering how Charlie had ever been able to _bear_ my kisses back then.

Why on earth had she even _wanted_ to carry on kissing someone whose unpractical teeth and glaring inexperience made her feel all that unneeded discomfort? It truly blew my mind.

So I was set on asking her.

  
**CcC**

“Charlie?” Al’s voice suddenly resonated through the familiar darkness of my old bedroom. “A question, my love. Do you mind?”

“Hmmm…?”

Still feeling dazed and wonderfully stretched out, I lazily looked up at him – and couldn’t help but shriek a little upon seeing Alastor’s _huge,_ uneven eyes looking down at me at the exact same time. Despite the pretty rowdy round of hot sex he had with me just a minute or ten ago, he apparently already had something else on his mind. By the look of it, it seemed to be a topic that worried him.

Well – I guess that was Alastor for you. Always the worrywart.

I chuckled at his way too focused, way too serious gaze and took his face in my hands, pressing my hands together so that he unwittingly pursed his lips together and looked like a total dork.

“…rweally now,” he sighed, a slight frown forming on his forehead.

I grinned and smooched said forehead. “It’s okay, Al! I think I know what you’re going to ask me, but don’t worry. This is _my_ bedroom. After one... 'happy accident' too many, mom, dad and I got the following unspoken rule: we _never_ enter each other’s bedrooms _unasked._ Plus, I let mom know we’re here, and she promised to keep dad busy (I don't want to know with _what)._ So we can just lay back and relax in here!”

After a short moment of quietness, Alastor smiled, wrapped his hands around mine and peeled them off his face. It had an amused grin decorating it. “That is an interesting side of you, I must say.”

“What do you mean?”

“Going to your parents’ party that they organized specially for you _without_ wearing underclothes, seducing me on the dancefloor, convincing me to make love to you in your former bedroom, while we both know it would be much better and safer to do that back at the hotel…” Al’s half-lidded eyes flickered and he propped himself up on an elbow, leaning onto the mattress. “You’re a very sweet and incorruptible woman, Charlie – but it’s _these_ kinds of antics you sometimes depict that casually remind me... that you have a whole _less_ innocent side to you…”

Feeling called out and carefully looking up at his smiling face, I wrung my lips together and gripped the bulging fabric of my dress. In all fairness, I… had _hoped_ he wouldn’t – bring up the no-panties-thing anymore. This... _immoral_ side of me wasn’t something I was especially _proud_ of, after all…

However, Al didn’t seem to be disgusted with me, so I hesitantly voiced what I was thinking.

“You don’t – dislike this side of me?”

“Now why would I dislike it?”

“Because it’s pretty perverted.”

He hummed, wiping a stray lock of hair from my face. “ _That_ it is. It’s indeed a _pretty_ kind of perverseness you have. Most _entertaining_!”

I blushed. “Y-you really think it’s pretty and entertaining?”

“My dear, if one would ask me, I’d say that sex is fairly straightforward and therefore kind of dull – not _always_ , mind you, and _certainly not_ with you, but you get my point. So, to answer your question, no – I don’t mind you putting us in stimulating, innovative _tête-à-têtes_ like this, if that helps the two of us getting more… _indulged_ in the act itself.”

“That’s good to know.” I chuckled awkwardly. “Thanks for telling me, Al.”

“Naturally.”

He gazed at me and I gazed right back. My smile faded. The inside of my mouth got a bit drier and I felt a familiar, tingling feeling intensifying in the area below my waist, when I thought about what to do next.

Don’t get me wrong: like I had said before, that was some pretty _good_ sex we had a litle while ago. I could still feel my cooling body tremble ever so slightly, thinking back to it. But it had been too long since the last time we had slept together like _this_ – and I knew that this first wild bout of copulating therefore hadn’t been enough for me.

“Hey – hey, Al?” I heard myself mutter.

“What is it, my love?” he asked. I chortled: I could tell Al already knew what I was going to suggest, but he got kudos for acting like he genuinely didn’t know.

“How about we do it some more..?”

I shifted my eyebrows at him in a (hopefully) very seductive and sultry way and wanted to suggestively run a teasing hand over his naked arm...

…buuuut that didn’t really leave any impact at _all_ , since the arm in question _wasn’t_ naked. I was just – weirdly rubbing over his arm’s sleeve, like an idiot.

And Alastor just blinked at me, dumbfounded.

“Do _what_ some more?”

…

…oh for fuck’s _sake_.

I was about to let out a _very_ disgruntled growl – but then Alastor, that damn _jerk_ , failed to stifle a chuckle and he all of a sudden sat up, taking my hands in his and pulling me up with him. I wanted to stammer to him that he shouldn’t pester me like that - but before I could, Al swiftly turned me around, so that my back was facing him, and started fidgeting with the zipper of the (now crumpled and ripped) bodice of Rosie’s oh so carefully made dress. 

“Let’s get you out of that pink puffball, first, hmm…?”

“I – y-yes.”

His hand landed on my bare shoulder, keeping me in place as the sensation of a piece of cold, hard material running down my back shot through me – just like that shiver I felt, when Al removed my _exploded_ bush of hair from my back and placed a couple of hot kisses on my shoulders’ uncovered skin.

There was a big gulp of air leaving my lungs when Al pulled down the upper part of the dress. Oh – _finally_. I muttered something unintelligible, closing my eyes in silent delight and anticipation. He was trying to get me out of my undergarment as well, I realized, and I leaned back against him, holding my breath. 

“ _Confound_ this demonic device,” I then heard him grumble, accompanied by many other obviously frustrated noises he was making while he struggled with my bra – and of course, with _that_ , the sultry atmosphere was instantly gone again.

God _damn_ it Al.

I still had to giggle though. God, he was so _dumb_ and _adorable_ : even after all this time and after all the sex we had had over the past months, he _still_ wasn’t able to get me out of my bra without getting all agitated and huffy about it.

“You’re such a _nerd_ , Al.”

“A... what?” his baffled reply sounded.

“Nothing, nothing… here, let me help you out.”

Smiling to myself, I helpfully reached my hands behind my back, calmly placed them on his and guided them to the little hooks on the straps. Al’s tugging and twitching hands instantly stopped their unwinnable fight.

“You feel these thingies?” I plucked one of his fingers from my bra and nudged it to the inside of my bra-strap.

“…yes?” Al’s breath hit my skin and I shivered involuntarily.

“Now – unhook those thingies and you will release the ladies.”

Al made a strange noise that sounded like a surprised snort.

“Did you – did you seriously refer to your breasts as ‘the ladies’ just now?”

“Maybe.”

He clacked his tongue and I could practically feel Alastor shake his head as he (now successfully) removed my bra.

“Good gracious, Charlie. What an _udder_ disappointment your sense of humor turns out to be.”

Holy _shit_.

I harshly pursed my lips together in an attempt to keep myself from bursting out in laughter and cheekily glanced over my shoulder at him. “I’m sorry, Al, but like my bra, I just _had_ to get it off my chest.”

Alastor’s eyes lit up, but he, too, kept his laughter under control. “Speaking of your bra – I think I might need to get you a new one, my dear. This one is bust.”

Oh – oh that was _terrible_. After hearing _that_ particularly bad pun, I could no longer hold in my suppressed, hiccupping snickers and they started escaping my mouth as soon as I tried to say something to that in response. Seeing how I hard I tried to say something funny, but was physically unable to do so because of my own stupid laughing, Alastor cracked up as well. His arms sneaked around me and he hauled me onto his lap, continuing to tell me even _more_ horrible boob-related puns.

Eventually, the remains of my squeals and giggles died in the back of my throat when Alastor turned me around so that I could decently look at him. I watched him gleefully, my eyes filled with tears of laughter as Al excitedly began a tall, elaborate story that would no doubt end in an _insultingly_ lousy joke. However, overwhelmed with giddy feelings, I cut him off mid-sentence – by clasping him by his half-undone dress shirt and pulling his yapping mouth against mine, smothering his gibberish with my tongue.

Alastor froze up, as per usual – but then immediately thawed out again, lowering his hands until they rested on my butt-cheeks. He made a low sound, letting me know he was up and eager for more. Pulling me flat against him, Al grinded his rapidly hardening cock against the folds of my lower, private parts, kneading my flesh from behind. I moaned in response and drove my nails into his shoulders when he, _way_ quicker than I had foreseen, slipped into me again.

“Oh – _shit_ ,” I wheezed, my head falling down on his shoulder, and I automatically locked my legs around him. I rocked with him as he wrapped his pointy fingers around my neck, his other hand pushing against the small of my back, encouraging me to keep on moving. I choked up a little – he was stirring deep inside of me, and holy _fuck_ did I feel like I was breaking apart. 

But I loved it – _god_ I loved every single second of it _so much_.

“You’re – amazing,” Al managed to croak out, after I had hurriedly worked him out of his dress shirt and waistcoat, and he stole a kiss from me before I could reply. He had slowed down his jolting, yet methodized movements, pulled up his knees – and fell backwards, taking me with him. Feeling he hit multiple spots - _differently_ in this new position, I keened and melted into his touch. I got lost in the way he made me feel, while all of my loud mewling ended right where his started.

When he _had_ to stop kissing me (I could swear he was starting to suffocate), I instantly sat up, without removing him from me – and I adjusted my position _just_ a bit, making sure Alastor had a good view on me, riding him. I wanted to look _very_ smug, sexy and professional while slumping down on his dick and feeling how he jammed himself further into me, but it was right at _that_ point that I suspected I had – _clearly_ overestimated myself and maybe sat up a bit too quickly: my already overstimulated mind was swimming all of a sudden, I became disoriented – and I needed – I needed something to hold on to, before I’d—

My hands were suddenly gripped tightly by other, larger hands. My vison cleared up again and I woozily stared at Al’s claws, intimately woven together with my fingers. 

“I got you,” Alastor breathlessly said, somewhere below me.

An insane, delighted blush flared up from the back of my neck. My eyes teared up again, for – for whatever silly, soft-hearted reason – and my lips quivered a little. I steadied myself on top of him and nodded, giving his hands a thankful little squeeze.

“Y-yeah,” I then softly said, in-between small puffs of air, and writhed my pelvis back and forth. “You got me.”

There was… a _lot_ more that happened, after these sappy words had been spoken, and I could faintly remember that this round of sex had also brought me to a satisfactory (yet awkward) orgasm. But somehow, my mind had only picked _this_ very moment – the instant Al had taken my hands and supported me until the end of it, until our lungs were desperately struggling for more oxygen and the rest of our fixed bodies reached new heights – to file away in my fondest, most tender memories of that night.

I didn’t really know why.

But I had it now.

So I'd better take good care of it.

  
**AaA**

**  
**Soon after the second sexual session had ended, a third one was taking place.

And then, a fourth one commenced.

And after that, even a fifth one. I... think?

Ha ha ha! Oh well! Who knows! 

...

I was so, _so_ exhausted, Dear _lord_. So _terribly_ exhausted, and _wrecked,_ and sensitive _all over_ my worn-out person – and I honestly had _no_ _idea_ how on _earth_ I managed to keep up with this extremely _driven_ Charlie, but I suppose it helped I was doing all of this with _her_.

 _For_ her.

Because I _wanted_ to satisfy her, to ravish her, to fill her up with my entire essence, time and time again, and make her gasp for sweet, sweet release. I _needed_ to fulfill all of her sexual needs and desires, _especially_ since I knew that, after this passionate night, when the party was officially over, there most likely _wouldn’t_ be another opportunity for me to enthrall Charlie like this in quite a while.

I was _so_ dead-set on giving Charlie all the pleasure that she wanted (and _more_ ), that I almost missed her hoarsely stuttered-comment, shortly after I had removed my mouth from the delectable space in-between her quivering, sticky inner thighs.

“ _God_ I love your mouth…”

Oh?

Suddenly remembering the question I had wanted to ask her – oh, _ages_ ago, I ( _laboriously_ ) dragged myself up her panting figure and settled down on her raising and falling chest.

“You do?” I asked her.

Charlie looked at me with blurred, misty eyes, the fists she had held my hair with now finally relaxing themselves and losing their rough grip.

“Yes I do,” she answered, patting my head tiredly. “I’ve _always_ loved your mouth – I love all about it.”

“Even in the beginning,” I wanted to know, “when I almost _always_ hurt you, whenever I kissed you?” 

“Yeah,” Charlie smiled blissfully, slithering her hands down my head until they rested on my face.

I stared at her, puzzled. “But – well, I wasn’t very good at it.”

“Oh no, you sucked _balls_ , Al, _big_ time.”

“Then why did you still—”

Charlie put a finger on my still-moist lips and gazed affectionately at me, her own lips curving upwards. I shut up right away and looked at her, waiting.

“ _You_ tell me. Why was that, Al? Why did I still enjoy your horrible, panicky kisses? Why did I long for every single bit of clumsy, weird affection you anxiously tried to give me? Why _was_ that, darling?”

She then removed her finger – and watched the color on my cheeks turn a darker shade of red with a sated grin. I had understood what she was trying to tell me, but instead of answering her, I had hauled myself up on my unsteady arms, brought my face closer to hers and captured her smudged lips in a tired kiss.

“I love yours, too,” I mumbled against her mouth.

Charlie made a pleased, happy noise and we carried on kissing for a while – chaste, easy, superficial kisses that simply felt nice, even against dirty, overworked lips that had gotten _far_ beyond damaged over the course of this seemingly everlasting night.

However, it wouldn’t go on for too long: at a certain moment, I felt she was stirring underneath me, and just a second later, she flipped the two of us over. I landed on my back and Charlie right on top of me, and even in the mystifying black of Charlie’s childhood’s bedroom, her eyes were unmistakably _sparkling_ with mirth.

Still, her voice was shy and unsure when she broke the silence.

“Al?”

“Yes?”

“Since you love my mouth so much, I… I’d like to do something new. Something I haven’t done with you before.” 

I was about to ask her what, but that wasn’t needed: the smacking of her lips and the sensation of her curious fingers, gingerly trailing downwards, over my belly, gave me the answer to the question I hadn’t been able to voice out loud yet. She didn’t go down all the way though and paused her hand’s movements when I stayed quiet for too long.

“Al?” she asked again.

I sighed, collected her sweaty, endearing face in my grasp and gave her a fixed look. “We’ve been over this before, my love. You know I don’t see the appeal in you – taking _that_ in your mouth. It’s rather revolting.”

Charlie tilted her head. “For someone who thinks oral sex is revolting, you’re uncharacteristically _enthusiastic_ about eating me out, whenever you see a chance to do so.”

“That’s something _completely_ different.”

“Wha – no it's _not_!” Charlie flustered and giggled a little, in spite of my curt answer (or maybe it was _because_ of my curt answer). But then she got a more serious facial expression and shot me a half-comforting, half-apologizing smile.

“It’s okay, Al – I don’t want to put you on the spot. Sorry if it sounded like I did.”

“You didn’t,” I said. “You absolutely didn’t. Don’t worry about it.”

“Alright.” Charlie beamed a relieved smile at me and nuzzled my chest, letting out a deep breath of air. I did the same and tried to relax, running my hands through her hair. I felt Charlie’s hand retracted themselves from my crotch and unhurriedly wound themselves behind my lower half now – well of _course_ they did, since that’s where my buttocks were located, as a matter of fact.

Much to my surprise and annoyance, I had a hard time calming down when I felt Charlie pressing her lips softly against my skin, right above my heart.

It felt nice when she kissed me there.

“I love you,” I heard Charlie murmur, even if her lips were still pressed against my chest, and she yawned.

“Yes,” I uttered in an odd voice, “I – love you, too.”

Things got quiet and peaceful in the bedroom, at long last. Charlie was slowly but surely falling asleep, I could tell from the way her grip around me lessened – but I was still _wide_ awake, much to my chagrin. Despite all the sex, all the kissing, all the rolling, humping, wheezing, and moaning, I was as alert as ever, all because I…

I couldn’t help but to think yet again…

It felt nice when she kissed me there. On my chest.

So perhaps it was the same if she kissed me – _there_?

With that lovely mouth of hers.

My heart, once more, increased its pace, thumping hard enough against my ribcage to make Charlie lift her face sleepily.

“Al…? What’s wro—”

“Alright,” I heard myself say. “Alright, Charlie.”

I had thought Charlie would perhaps need more clarification, but I was gravely mistaken, because she _instantly_ spread her eyes wide open, giving me an excited look.

“Oh _wow_. Okay… okay. Are you _sure_ though?”

“Oh yes. Very sure.”

“That’s goo—”

“I’m also very aware of my tongue right now.”

“Well, that’s… good as well? It’s always nice to be… aware of your tongue.” She chuckled, however, and gently altered her position. “Just… tell me to stop if you change your mind. Alright? Doesn’t matter when. Okay, Al? You promise?”

I nodded stiffly.

“Relax, sweetie. And keep _breathing_.”

“I am breathing.”

“Okay.” She swallowed. “ _God_ you got hard _fast_. I _like_ that. Okay. Here we go…”

Charlie then placed her hands to my sides, making me jolt, and brought her face to the front of my upper body again. Leaving careful, wet kisses on my faded scars and bruises, she slowly, but _eagerly_ began licking and caressing her way down my wincing torso.

While Charlie moved herself lower and lower, only stopping every now and then to check if I was still breathing and willing to go on (which I was, but I appreciated the sentiment nevertheless), I attempted to get a hold of myself and make light of this new and most alien situation I had found myself in. That usually helped.

Alright – so _perhaps_ I still found it incredible difficult and abnormal to unwind and give in to pleasure, especially when it was _only me_ losing control and _nobody_ _else_ , but _surely_ I wouldn’t overreact and black out from exhaustion and the incomprehensible _madness_ of it all!

Ha ha ha!

Of course _not_!

I was the _Radio Demon_!

Feared by _many_!

 _Surely_ I wouldn’t pass out from a mere blo—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day, princess Snow White’s beauty surpasses that of her wicked stepmom, the Queen. The evil Queen gets mad with jealousy and orders a huntsman to take Snow White into the woods, kill her and cut out her heart, so he can prove to her that the Princess really is dead.  
> The huntsman, however, finds himself unable to kill the girl, and lets her escape. In the woods, Snow White stumbles upon a tiny cottage, belonging to seven dwarfs. The dwarfs all take a liking to the girl and want to protect her from the evil Queen, so she can stay with them. They warn her however that she should never let anybody in, just in case.  
> In time, the Queen discovers the huntsman’s betrayal and decides to take matters into her own hands. She finds and unsuccessfully attempts to kill the (extremely naïve and gullible) Snow White at least two times. The third attempt, however (which is killing her with a poisonous apple), seems to do the trick.  
> Sick with grief, the dwarfs put the beautiful body of the Princess in a glass casket, which a passing-by Prince discovers the next day. He wants to give Snow White a proper burial at the King’s castle and the dwarfs agree: he should take her with him. One of the servants carrying the casket is kind of a klutz though: he trips, dislodging the piece of poisoned apple in Snow White’s throat. Naturally, she wakes up – and naturally, the Prince instantly wants to marry her. So she does!  
> Everybody lives happily ever after, except for the Queen, who – like most stepmoms in fairy tales – meets a fitting and gruesome end.
> 
> There are at least fifty (!) different versions of this very popular story, but the most well-known version is that of the Brothers Grimm. The first and original one, however, allegedly was from our Greek friend Ovid.


	24. The Liar King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **~*~*~ Please allow me to already wish all of you a very happy and healthy 2021!!! ~*~*~**
> 
> I know 2020 has turned out to be a brutal year and I know there are a lot of people who could use a break from the harsh reality that is our current situation right now, so here's hoping that 2021 will be a much, _much_ better year.^^ For all of us! 
> 
> Also, before I forget it: thanks for all the lovely comments chapter 23 got! You have no idea how stressed out I was about posting that chapter, so - well - thanks for soothing my mind! 8DDDDD
> 
> As for this chapter: well, you better brace yourself, because guess who'd like to have a word with Alastor...?
> 
>  _Song that's being referenced:_  
> ['Bittersweet Symphony'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1lyu1KKwC74) by The Verve

The morning after, I woke up from a hazy dream when a particularly persisted ray of sunlight hit my eyes.

Groaning softly, I wiggled away from the insistent light and yawned, slowly opening my eyes. The second I became aware of my surroundings, I became aware of – _other_ things, too. Because although I felt _ridiculously_ refreshed, satisfied and energized, I also felt like I had gotten run over by like a _dozen_ raging _elephants_. That had been on _fire_. And then I wasn’t even talking about how damn _sore_ and _sensitive_ I was in-between my legs, holy _hell_ , what had _happened_ in there?

Oh Charlie, _lots_ of things had happened in there.

I snorted stupidly at my own smug comment, blushing brightly (even though I knew very well it was a bit too late to be blushing about anything right now) and rubbing over my flustered face.

As I laid there, on my back, my mind briefly yet very helpfully showed me flashes of… uhm, all the sex I had the night before. Almost lifelike, mental pictures of Al’s focused face, his exploring hands, my torn dress and my wrinkled bedding streamed into my unguarded brain. My cheeks couldn’t help but turn into an even _brighter_ kind of red as all of _that_ , _plus_ the suggestive imagery of our bodies, moving and slotting together wonderfully, _pounced_ onto me. The spicy memories of last night made me sigh and shudder in bliss – and enjoy the afterglow even more, of course. Naturally. _Always_.

While I looked around, trying to distract myself from – well, _myself_ , really, I noticed Alastor’s right hand, placed down in the middle of my chest. It twitched ever so slightly against my naked skin, and when my eyes followed the lines of his hand, then his wrist, his arm and then finally came to rest on the rest of his body, I discovered that Alastor was lying next to me, on his tummy (oh! How _rare_!). He was still very much asleep.

Or should I say, still very much _conked out_?

He looked pretty adorable like this. His face was so peaceful, so at ease… even the smaller, more sincere version of his default smile seemed a lot more relaxed than usual.

An endeared grin appeared on my face as I took hold of Al’s hand and kept a close eye on his unconscious, marred figure, breathing in and out steadily. 

I can’t believe this nerd had fainted from a mere blowjob last night.

Or – well – an _almost_ blowjob. To be honest, I had barely put the tip of his dick in-between my lips or Al had _completely_ lost his marbles and went out like a light, _right_ on the spot. While Al going full horizontal on me had most definitely surprised me – and I’d be lying if I claimed I didn’t panic a little after seeing that – I couldn’t say I _hadn’t_ expected this to happen, looking back.

I mean, he had been totally _used_ _up_ , to put it unpoetically, and the thought of him losing grip on the situation ( _any_ situation, really) while he already was exhausted, at wits’ end, aching all over his body and fighting against his own sudden curiosity… it must have been a bit too much for his poor, easily frazzled mind to handle.

Sooo _down_ he went.

What a stubborn man he was _._

I loved him _so much_.

Careful to not accidentally wake him up, I folded my hands around Alastor’s and brought it up to my lips, planting an affectionate kiss on his knuckles. Oh well, it didn’t matter – there was always next time. If he’d still want to try it out with me, I’d make sure he’d be ready for it. He was in good hands.

Talking about hands – wasn’t Al’s hand a bit _too_ warm? Wait, wasn’t this his ‘bad’ hand?

My forehead frowned and I narrowed my eyes, turning his big hand more my way – and my insides suddenly felt odd and hollow when I studied the back of it.

The white, almost glowing, cross-shaped scar tainting the dark skin of Al’s hand had gotten bigger. It also felt hot to the touch and if I looked at it up close, I could see some reddish bruising surrounding the mark. It looked so painful… it had always looked pretty painful, but now, here in the morning light of my already cheerfully-colored old bedroom, it looked positively _harrowing_.

I had a lingering suspicion that Al’s Mark of the Fallen somehow had something to do with… well, a _lot_ of things Alastor had carefully kept secret from me. He had told me about his hand, sure, but I assumed he hadn’t told me _all_ about it. Not _really_. I don’t know why I was so sure of that – it was a gut feeling. 

Good thing he was going to come clean about everything today. I mean, it probably would be a relief to him as well to get all of that off his chest, right? I wish he had just – told me sooner. If he had done that, then maybe he didn’t _had_ to endure all that pain.

“Jesus,” I mumbled, shaking my head, and gently put Al’s hand down on my bosom again.

“Now now, my love. How many times do I have to remind you that you can just call me Alastor? Or Al? Perhaps I should write it on my forehead, as a casual reminder for you.”

His sudden, drowsy voice made me turn my head to him in surprise. “Oh, Al – you’re awake!”

“I am!” He smiled. “Good morning, my darling Charlie.”

“Y-yeah, good morning, Al.” I shifted and moved to lay on my side, keeping his hand pressed to my chest – even though I felt he tried to pull it away from me. “How are you feeling? Better? Have you, uhm, recovered a little from – you know, last night…?”

It would have been great if I hadn’t reddened as much as I did when I said that, but, oh well, I still did.

Alastor gave me a sarcastic smirk. “Recovered? _Ha!_ My dear, I woke up and instantly found out I’m hurting on places I didn’t even know I _had_!”

“O-oh.” 

“My head and back are killing me. I busted my hip. My throat feels like someone has scattered sand into it. I cannot feel my lips anymore and I think I accidentally bit my own tongue at least six times yesterday night. _Six_ times, Charlie! And my lower abdomen – well let’s just _not_ talk about _that_ tragic warzone. Good _lord_!”

“Oh god.” I chuckled, because I couldn’t help myself. “Please tell me that at least your butt made it out alive. You know I can’t live without it.”

“Well, my dear, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you then.”

I gasped, playing along. “Say it isn’t so!”

“I apologize, but the butt has passed on.”

“Oh _no_!”

“Oh _yes_.” Alastor nodded solemnly. “Snatched away in the prime of its life. It will be missed. So sad.”

“Oh well – I hope it at least went down as gloriously as your dick did last night,” I teasingly remarked, and oh _god_ , that was a _low_ _blow_ , and maybe I shouldn’t have giggled as much as I did, but Alastor’s _face_ was just so _priceless_ when it – _boom_ , like that – dawned upon him what I was talking about.

However, instead of getting over the top distressed and mortified about it, Al remained relatively calm and collected, clearing his throat with a small, apologetic smile.

“Ah – yes. My… sudden fainting must have given you quite the fright last night. I’m terribly sorry about that, my love.”

My heart skipped a beat. Oh. O- _oh_. God. What a cute, slightly embarrassed and _handsome_ smile that was… and how well he wore it. I knew I was instantly done joking about last night’s abrupt ending – and shyly smiling back at him, I felt myself warming up with fuzzy glee in an instant. It seemed like Alastor had learned to put things in perspective a bit – and for that, I felt incredibly proud of him.

“That’s okay, Al, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re not… uhm, freaking out about it more.”

He scoffed ironically, rolling his eyes. “Oh _that_ bridge has already been crossed, Charlie, _believe_ you me. See, that’s the only _good_ thing about fainting: the internal screaming simply stops at a certain moment.”

I laughed and lightly squeezed his hand. “In any case, Al, I… I had a great time last night.”

“I’m happy to hear that. What can I say – I did my best!”

“Yeah you did.” I beamed at him. “You _stallion_.”

Al _really_ took this compliment to heart and grinned, wide and somewhat reassured, looking comically haughty. Then his hand nimbly crept up from my chest, reached my chin and cheeks and rubbed his fingers over my skin.

“Nothing but the best for you, my darling – that’s what I strive for. Now. How is _your_ body doing, hmm?”

“Fine – I mean, it’s aching and throbbing and all that, but – I’m fine.” I leaned my face into his touch, sighing softly. “Nothing that a nice, hot shower and some relaxation can’t fix.”

Al hummed, staring at my lips. “Probably.”

“Probably,” I parroted him, chuckling.

Too enthralled by my mouth, Alastor moved closer to me, guided my face to his and pressed a single kiss to my lips. He pulled back again rather fast, though.

“Perhaps we should freshen up then, my lov—”

“Wait wait no no, not yet – give me some more, first,” I muttered, pursing my lips and trying to steal more sweet kisses from him.

Al hummed and readily indulged me for a little while, chuckling and nuzzling into my face as I lifted his and pressed happy kiss after happy kiss onto his mouth.

At last, he tore himself away from my needy lips and pinched my cheeks. “Alright my dear, this is all very nice and lovely, but I feel _incredibly_ disgusting – and so do you, no offence. Why, you’re so _sticky_! So how about we take a nice shower, hmm? I take it your charming former bedroom has an adjunct bathroom in _this_ household, too?”

Alastor gave me a strangely fascinated look.

“Y-yeah, it’s behind that one door, over there.” I blinked at him, astonished. “Also, you – want to take a shower? As in… t- _together_ with me, you mean?”

“Naturally.” He chuckled. “If you don’t mind, that is?”

Oh _god_ , he even said ‘ _naturally’_ , as if he never meant to shower on his own in the first place. This meant I was going to see his beautiful bare butt all _wet_ and _glistering_ and stuff.

Oh _HELL_ yes!

 _Way_ too enticed by this great prospect, I beamed at him the most radiant smile I had in my armory and shook my head so rapidly I worried my head might fly off.

“O-oh no, I don’t mind – taking a shower with you, no complaints here!”

“Excellent. Then _off_ we go, my icky angel!”

He sat up with a vicious _crack_ of his neck and a hard _snap_ coming from his back, slapped the (bright pink and awfully _girly_ ) covers back, quite literally plucked me from the mattress and amusedly watched me shriek and squirm in his arms for a little while (“O-oh god, Al – not so fast – I’m still sore – _ow_!”), before he hugged me to his chest and _grandiosely_ carried me over to the bathroom.

And he didn’t even flinch in pain all that much while he did so.

  
**LLL**

**  
** Just outside of Charlotte’s former bedroom I stood, and I waited.

Patiently.

Like a motherfucking _saint._

Look I didn’t give a tiny flying rat’s _ass_ about how long I’d have to wait before my rebellious daughter and her needle-shaped fuckboyfriend would finally have the audacity to get out of their private little sex shack. Hell, chances were I’d have to wait even longer than I had anticipated because they could _still_ be going at it, and even _then_ I wouldn’t give a flipping fuck!

Well no, that’s a big fat lie. I _would_ give a flipping fuck. I would give _multiple_ flipping fucks. Holy shit – better not think too much about that very reasonable possibility too much, because were _that_ the truth, I’d flip out and flip some tables and then flip the entire castle and then **I’d fucking rip the intestines out of that smiling piece of shit, blow them up and make red balloon animals out of them** , ** _ha ha ha!_**

And that would just be unnecessary.

But hey!

Even _if_ they had planned to do nothing but shag each other for the rest of this day, even _then_ , they had to leave their seedy porn bubble at _some_ point in time, right? They would get _hungry_ , right? They couldn’t live on bodily fluids alone!

So I’d wait.

I could wait! Oh yes I could _wait_.

I’m _Lucifer_ _Magne_ , after all. The Light-Bringer. The Morning Star. The Prince of Darkness.

I was used to waiting for the right time to strike.

  
**LLL  
  
**

Used to waiting or not, I was getting pretty fucking annoyed with having to skulk around the hallway like a damn stalker, dammit, and I was starting to wonder if it wouldn’t be easier for me to just go up to Charlotte’s bedroom door, knock on it and let them answer it. And just when I came to the stunning conclusion that yes, _yes, goddammit,_ that _would_ be way fucking easier – the door to my dear daughter’s bedroom opened up, because life was a nasty little bitch like that.

Anyway.

Wanting to make a flourishing and sensational arrival, I skillfully hid myself behind a corner for a bit and listened to their ongoing talk.

“… and so what is next?” I heard Alas _turd_ ask my daughter, as she soundly closed her bedroom door. “What should we do, next? I don’t suppose we can simply march up to your parents and ask for breakfast, now, can we?”

Charlotte let out a lighthearted titter. “Of _course_ we can, Al – didn’t I already tell you mom knows we stayed over for the night? You _bet_ we can expect a wonderful breakfast waiting for us downstairs! And after we’ve eaten and said goodbye to my mom, we can return to the hotel.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” A pause. “You need to tell me some things, after all.”

“I’m well-aware of that. But… does that mean you’re _not_ planning to talk with your parents a bit more?”

“ _No_ ,” Charlotte’s huffy answer was – but she sounded unsure. “Why do you ask? You – think I should?”

Her douchebag lover, on the other hand, sounded deceivingly indifferent. “Well it’s all up to _you_ of course, my love – but if you’d ask me, I think your parents at the very least deserve _one_ normal conversation with you, their only daughter. Don’t forget that _they_ were the ones who threw this party, just for you. Certainly, I might have – tweaked some things here and there, but ultimately, it were your _parents_ who executed the party. They did all of that for _you_ , my angelic darling. In the hopes you’d start talking to them again.”

I cursed inwardly. Well crap – now I was too curious of Charlotte’s answer to make my dramatic entrance! 

It stayed quiet for a while. I heard my daughter mutter something and I heard he murmured something back.

“But he _does_ care about you, my dear.”

More inaudible mumbling.

“No, I’m _very_ sure he does. Now, please don’t cry, sweetheart… raise your pretty face a little for me, alright? That’s right… why, aren’t you just the most _beautiful_ thing... Here, let me make you feel a little bit better, hmm…?”

Even more mumbling I couldn’t make anything out of, but this time, it was mixed with bashful giggling and soon after – I heard sloppy, wet smacking sounds?!

Oh _HELL_ no!

 _Enough_ of that!

Determined to end all face-sucking and daughter-hump activities in my sacred hallway, my royal mace and I _instantly_ stomped around the corner, just in time to give Charlotte (who, in contrast to the asshole holding her, could actually _see_ me approach them) a _huge_ jumpscare. Understandably, she made a weird noise, hastily ended her make-out session and pushed her lover back.

“Dad,” she breathed, wiping her hair and some wet spots from her face. “H-hi.”

The Radio Dipshit turned around at that, smiled cunningly upon seeing me and gave me a neural nod – not looking even a _bit_ ashamed. “Well, what a coincidence. Good morning, Sire.”

“And a good morning to _you_ , too!” I sunnily greeted them, but mostly _him_ , walking over to where they were and _slamming_ my cool, epic apple-and-snake-themed scepter down on the white tiles with a hard _smash_. “Now! _Alastor_! Let’s just address the ugly beast by its name from here on out, shan’t we? How _are_ things, my man? I believe we haven’t really spoken to each other in a long time. So tell me! How did fucking my daughter underneath my roof work out for you? Did you have _fun_?”

“ _Dad_!” Charlotte gasped right away, her head turning as red as a beet root.

Alastor didn’t budge, however. He just calmly stared at me and thought about what to say. “Well, I—”

“ _Really_ don’t want to hear it, please shut up.” I grinned – and then I gave him a quick look-over, feeling a little, angry vein twitch near my right eye. “Are those… _my_ clothes you’re wearing?”

What the _fuck_? Was he actually _wearing_ my shit? Why the _hell_ was he wearing my shit?

He opened his mouth again. “I didn’t—”

“Again, _really_ don’t want to hear it, please shut up.” I pressed my tongue against the inside of my lower lip as my smile grew more strained. “I guess screwing my daughter’s brains out wasn’t enough for you, huh – no no no, nope, you just _had_ to go and nick my clothes as well. Dick move, Alastor, even for you. What’s next? Are you planning to take my wife away as well? And then – what, take over the throne? Pump some gross, fucked-up deer babies into Charlotte and make Alastor World happen? Are you—” 

“Excuse me for interrupting your lively little rant, Your Highness, but perhaps you should consider Charlie’s feelings before you continue making ridiculous, _false_ allegations about me,” Alastor suddenly intercepted me, his voice impassive, yet decisive. He smiled as broadly as he always did, but there was no sympathy in his cold grin, just like there was nothing of that in mine.

I offhandedly peeked at Charlotte, who was standing next to Alastor and shook like a jelly. At first, I thought she was going to cry some more: my sweet girl had always been a huge crybaby after all. But no, no tears were visible – all there was for me to see, was an angry _spark_ flashing behind her dark orbs. I noticed she had started clenching her teeth and fisting her hands as well.

Huh. Okay, maybe the douchebag had a point. I _was_ getting a bit distracted, truth be told.

I swiftly changed my demeanor and put a hand on the bird nest on top of Charlotte’s head, ruffling it. “Aw, come on, sweetie, I’m just _kidding_! _Obviously_! But then again, put yourself in _my_ position for a sec: you have to understand my… _surprise_ , right? I mean, _shit_ , you’re lucky your mother eventually told me about your plan to stay over for the night, because otherwise – hell, I don’t know what I’d have done otherwise!”

I laughed out loud, but Charlotte didn’t find it funny. She looked very mad, yet she didn’t push my hand away from her hair. Rather than that, she just _glared_ at me, her eyebrows lowering themselves so much her eyes almost completely disappeared behind them.

Now that I knew she was angry at me – well nothing new _there_ – I expected her to yell and nag at me. She _always_ yelled and nagged at me when I had messed things up in her eyes, one way or another, and while I didn’t really care that much about that anymore and halfheartedly braced myself for her shrill tirade…

…it – didn’t happen?

Instead of shouting at me, Charlotte actually calmed down again, closing her eyes and breathing in and out slowly. Alastor, still standing next to her, looked at her with admiration is his eyes – and slimy asshole or not, the way he silently supported her like that probably had something to do with my daughter recollecting herself.

“That’s right – it was all _my_ plan, dad. _Not_ Alastor’s.” Charlotte exhaled and gave me a stern look. “Al just went along with it. I was also the one who gave him those clothes, since his own got dirty – so there’s no reason for you to blame _anything_ that happened on _him_. You understand, dad? I hope you do, because I’d like it if you’d stop behaving like an awful _jerk_ now.”

I tilted my head to the side, thoroughly fascinated. Slowly, I retracted my hand from my daughter’s head.

“Huh, how about _that_.”

She frowned. “How about wha—”

“You’ve _grown_ , haven’t you?”

Now it was Charlotte’s turn to be taken aback. “I – I don’t know.”

“Nah, it’s okay, daughter dear – don’t worry about it.” I shot her a toothy smile. “Oh! And don’t worry about your precious red rectangle-man either: believe it or not, I actually _didn’t_ come out here to assault or insult him. Oh no, psssh, nothing of _that_ : I just wanted to talk to him for a bit. So please forgive me my little outburst back there – that was a big _whoopsy_ from my side. It’s all water under the bridge now!”

Admittedly, both Alastor and Charlotte were capable of giving the most _hilarious_ bewildered looks – Charlotte jaw dropped and Alastor’s monocle even fell right out of his eye socket, ha ha. Also, you’d think I’d feel a little bit hurt or offended by both their low opinions of me, but yeahhh, I kind of knew myself and I got why they’d be wary of me, _especially_ Alastor, so I could let it slide.

“You wanted to _talk_ ,” Charlotte repeated me.

“To _me_ ,” Alastor added.

“Ayup,” I simply said, putting my scepter over my shoulder.

“Okay,” Charlotte said, “what is i—”

“In _private_ , Charlotte.” I stared at Alastor, squinting my eyes at him. “Just the two of us. Just – me and this lanky guy with the weird Karen-haircut you happen to like so much.”

Alastor didn’t say anything and smiled non-committedly, but he was no dense fool: his mismatched eyes told me he already knew what I was up to.

My daughter _didn’t_ know, however, and she confusedly looked back and forth to me and Alastor.

“You – I don’t get it, what is it you _exactly_ want to talk to him about, dad?”

“What are you, the Radio Demon’s bubbly, blonde bodyguard? Are you afraid I might – _do_ something to him?” I threw my head back and let out a high-pitched laugh. “No worries, Charlotte! There’s something I’m – _curious_ about. Something I’d like to hear _more_ about. So I want to take Alastor for a stroll and a chat in the backyard. For an hour or so. Nothing too special, just two dudes being bro’s.”

“Oh god.” Charlotte graced me with a grim little smile. “I – _really_ don’t think you should use that phrase in this context, dad.”

I ignored her comment and carried on: “You can have breakfast with your mother in the meantime. She’s downstairs – and she’s been waiting for a chance to catch up with you, you know?”

My daughter’s eyes began to increase in size – however, they didn’t exactly light up. Charlotte was still having doubts about leaving Alastor in my care, no matter how much she, too, was looking forward to having breakfast with a certain family member she might had missed more than she was willing to let on.

Yeah, that’s right, I didn’t buy it for a second that sudden horniness was the sole reason why my daughter had decided to stay over for the night. Just like I didn’t believe Lilith had only agreed with letting Charlotte and Alastor sleep here because she wanted to do our daughter a favor.

“I’m not sure…” Charlotte muttered, pressing a hand to her mouth. Her thoughtful eyes looked up at Alastor questioningly. “What do _you_ think about this, Al?”

“I think it’s alright, my love. As a matter of fact, I also wanted to talk to _him._ Remember?” Alastor all but _snapped_ his back as he bent towards Charlotte and pecked her on the forehead. “You can trust your father.”

Charlotte rolled with her eyes, just like her mother liked to do. “ _Doubtful_ , Al.”

She didn’t really seemed to care I could hear all she said, so _that_ stung a little, have to say.

“My darling, if King Lucifer had _really_ wanted to harm me, he had done so already. Don’t you think so, too? For example, he had _plenty_ of opportunities to attack me last night, yet he didn’t.” Alastor collected my daughter’s face in his hands and caressed her cheeks. “Or do you think he’s simply too honorable of a man to assault me at a party and instead rather kill me in private?”

“A foolish miscalculation that would be!” I very helpfully said. “I’d _happily_ slaughter you at a party! Hell – if I had wanted to, I had even dragged you out of bed after all the fuckery you had done to my precious baby girl and finish you off in the presence of her peacefully snoozing body! That’s just how dishonorable I am!”

“See?” Alastor jovially said. “Nothing to worry about!”

“Nothing at all!” I insisted.

Then both me and Alastor started roaring with fake laughter, making some passing servants nervously quicken their pace and causing poor Charlotte to get even _more_ confused about what the ever-loving crap was going on and unsure of what she should decide.

But in the end, since Alastor was convinced I wouldn’t hurt him and since Charlotte really _did_ crave some mother-daughter quality time, she begrudgingly consented with the idea of me and Alastor spending some more time together. How fucking lovely.

“Just for an hour though,” Charlotte urged, when Alastor let go of her. “Okay? Just… one hour.”

“It’s a promise,” Alastor nodded, and waved at her as she started walking away from us.

I simply waited until my wary, darling apple beignet had left the corridor – and then I immediately _smacked_ my edgy scepter against the Radio Demon’s back.

 _Hard_.

With the big, sharp, leaf-shaped side of the ruby apple on top of the staff pointing forward.

I felt a tremor going through him in response. Good. I _hoped_ it hurt and cut him.

“You’re still a _very_ crafty schemer, I see.” I grinned humorlessly at him when he gave me a stoic, yet cautious side glance. “Cool beans – now that the offspring has left the stage, we can talk about some business. Now come with me, you clothes-stealing freakshow.”

  
**LLL**

**  
** _“‘Cause it’s a bittersweet  
symphony  
that’s life;  
Trying to make ends meet  
you’re a slave to money then you die;  
I’ll take you down the only road  
I’ve ever been down;  
You know the one that takes you to the places  
where all the veins meet, yeah!”  
  
_

My voice had an upbeat, light ring to it as I sang and took Alastor downstairs. I guided him through the quaint conservatory connected to the Royal Palace and easily led him into the backyard. Alastor didn’t have much to say, seemed like… he simply obediently followed my lead, taking in the surroundings.

I understood why he did so: in a fairly short amount of time, he watched the rooms, spaces and impressions around him change at a rapid pace. For someone like Alastor, who was used to Charlotte’s plain, mostly-red hotel, it must have been pretty overwhelming to see all the different historical styles and time periods Lilith and I had decorated the palace with flit by. Ah well – that was to be expected. Lilith and I were old beings, after all, and the both of us were fond of many diverse themes and fads that had come up and died down throughout the ages. 

Not that I actually cared about all that. But still.

“I have to give it to you, Alastor: I had my doubts, but I really _did_ like some of those crazy 90s-songs that were played at the party yesterday night.” I flashed him a big smile as I stepped outside, holding the door open for him. “Like _this_ one song, for example! What’s it called again – ‘ _Bittersweet Symphony’_? It’s so very _ominous_! So _foreboding_! And the music stringing along with the lyrics – it’s the cat’s meow! Don’t you agree? Alastor? Hey – don’t you _agree_?”

Alastor must have heard the sheer irritation in my voice, because he stopped looking around the pathway we both had started to walk on and grinned at me.

“I’m thrilled to hear you liked the songs, Sire. Sounds like your taste in music isn’t all too different from your daughter’s!”

“Ha ha! I guess so! My daughter and I are much alike, after all!” I laughed, strolling along with him. “Also, since we’re talking about Charlotte: thanks for backing me up back there – I don’t think my dear daughter would’ve left you in my care otherwise.”

He gave me a humble nod. “It was my—”

“Buuuuuut I originally _had_ planned to brutally shred your sorry body to smithereens in the backyard, you know? For your information, I _really wanted_ to kill you. Ha ha! **I wanted to kill you _soooo_ _badly!_** ”

I stared up at him – by the way, _fuck_ _him_ _sideways_ for being such a _tall_ motherfucker – and stopped blinking for a moment. I then not-so-very-gently placed my royal mace, that I had been twirling around and around like a fancy baton ever since leaving the confines of the palace, to the base of his neck. Now that he wasn’t wearing his usual red attire but _mine_ , the skin of his throat was exposed, and I noticed the disgusting scars, spread all over it.

Alastor looked down at (or _on,_ who’s to say) me, his eyes filled with disdain – but he was wise enough to keep that damn smile of his stable.

“Oh? You actually had planned to kill me, Sire? Even with the Princess and the Queen not agreeing with you on that matter?” he pointed out, blatantly ignoring the razor-sharp leaf pricking into his thin, vulnerable skin. “You better watch out they don’t spot you threatening me like this through your oh so _humble_ castle’s windows.”

My upper lip curled. _God_ how tempting it was to just slice his throat like this – to open up some important veins, to let him helplessly drown in his own blood-soaked voice that he got off on so much. I knew it wouldn’t matter all _that_ much – kill a sinner with a regular old weapon and they’d be alive and kicking in Hell the next day anyway – and cutting him down in that fashion wouldn’t exactly help _me_ , either, but _damn_ if it wouldn’t be fucking _satisfying_ to see that asshole go like that, at least _once._

Alas – with a heavy sigh, I pulled back my scepter and looked away from him.

“Yeah, I get what you’re trying to say: yada yada, think about what Charlotte and Lilith would think, how they would feel, blah blah, they’d never forgive me, eternal hatred from my daughter on my ass, etcetera etcetera – all of that, right? You think I’d be fearful of that. Of their _scorn_. Right?”

“Yes.”

“ _No_. Wrong.” I immediately corrected him. “So they’d get mad at me. So Charlotte would’ve hated me for a century or five – _whatever_ , it isn’t like she spent the last couple of centuries _not_ hating my guts. No Alastor, I wouldn’t care about them losing their love or respect for me. They’re stuck down here with me either way. Also, no matter what, Lilith is _always_ on _my_ side – and after a couple of eternities, hell, you bet your fucked-up face that even _Charlotte_ would eventually want to talk to her father again. You get what I’m saying?”

“I—”

I clacked my tongue. “Of course you _don’t_ , because you’re nothing but a damn human _sinner._ We are _not_ human, nor sinners. I’m a fallen Archangel. Lilith is a demonic succubus. And Charlotte – well, I have no fucking _clue_ what strange, sweet being Charlotte is supposed to be, half-bred Archangel or not. But she’s no sinner. Heh, that’s one thing I know for sure, and that’s something _you_ should realize as well, Alastor: Charlotte _isn’t a sinner_. Do you get what I mean _now_?”

But Alastor just looked at me.

I sneered and shook my head. What a fucking _joke_ this guy was.

We approached the big lake. I looked over my shoulder and yes – this area was located at a decent, safe distance from the Royal Palace. I’m sure not even my luscious Lilith and her magnificent, spying orbs of _passion_ could spot us here. Looking back at the lake, I spotted some thick, dark red-and-brown tentacles, sticking out of the grimy water’s surface. Its poisonous feelers felt around themselves and the quay of the lake, diligently searching for some poor fools to drag into the water and feast upon.

Oh crap, that reminded me: I still needed to feed poor little Kevin.

“Kevin?” Alastor asked – apparently, I had thought out loud.

“The Kraken,” I explained, pointing my staff at the slithering tentacles.

“Kevin the Kraken,” Alastor concluded, his voice blasé and _barely_ hiding its mocking tone.

“It’s pretty damn _catchy_ , wouldn’t you say so? It’s also alliterating and, on top of that, both Kevin and Kraken have two syllables in their respectable names/words!” I excitedly told him. “Wait, hold up a minute – I need to say hi to my _wibble Kewwi webbi_! The guy need some _hugs_! Kevin! Kevin, here I am, my ferocious little man-slaughterer! Let your Apple Daddy give you some _sugar_!”

Without waiting for an answer, I tossed my staff into Alastor’s hands and left him on the sandy pathway, as I took my _savvy_ white top hat by its brim and _sprinted_ towards the lake – and for the following ten minutes, I made sure to coddle and _coo_ to every single feeler Kevin had held out. The good boy had recognized its master and its damp, flabby, poop-shaped upper half of its hideous, brown head jiggled happily with every bit of affection I showered the creature with.

Meanwhile, Alastor just stood there and watched us from a safe distance.

Upon returning from my cuddly outburst, I was a bit out of breath and maybe my top hat had a piece of shell chomped out of it – but fuck all of that, I, somehow, _still_ managed to still look _very_ fucking cool and dashing anyway! Therefore, I granted Alastor a proud, huge grin and felt even _better_ when I saw he had been absolutely _baffled_ by the scene he had witnessed just now.

“You sure seem to like Kevin the Kraken,” he said.

“Oh I _love_ Kevin the Kraken,” I declared with a wink, snapping with my fingers and fixing all of the damage Kevin’s boisterous hugging had done to my clothes and, uhh, my appearance in general, within the blink of an eye. “I know most people would say that Kevin’s nothing but an evil, shit-like lump of terror, darkness and – well, _fish_ , but screw all of _them_! Kevin is more than all that – and he’s clearly just misunderstood! He deserves a _chance_ is all!”

Alastor nodded at me, his eyes widening. He had to smile – a _sincere_ smile, by the looks of it. It almost was as if he wasn’t smiling at _me_ , but at someone else.

“My lord. You’re right. It seems like Charlie really _does_ take a lot after her father!”

I laughed jovially at his friendly remark, rubbing a finger underneath my nose in embarrassment. “Heh – that’s what I’ve been telling you all along! Now – can you hand me back my royal mace, please?”

The Radio Demon chuckled and complied, reaching out my scepter towards me—

— **and I instantly slapped the thing out of his grip and firmly clutched his hand with mine, before he saw any chance to pull it back and continue hiding its wound from me.**

“Yeah, you got _that_ right,” I cackled wheezily at him, as I pulled his face close enough to see his unreadable, _stupid_ grin fade away, “isn’t that just the _cutest_ , Alastor? Isn’t that just _quaint_? How _lovely_ that the girl you love so much shares some of her most endearing character traits with her diabolical _asshat_ of a father! Maybe he’s likable after all, huh? Maybe, if he shares some similarities with Charlotte, there’s something redeemable about good ol’ Beelzebub after all – was _that_ what you were thinking, you gullible piece of **_shit_**?”

He didn’t quite respond – Alastor was far too occupied with trying to wring his hand out of my iron grasp. I thought it was pretty impressive he had managed to remain more than enough of his dignity to _somewhat_ mask his desperation to get his hand out of mine, but it was no use, really. I had still seen it. I had still noticed it.

I had still _felt_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a kingdom far far away, there lived a king who used to tell lies everywhere and anytime. Lying was what he was best at – but he got bored when he didn’t have any new lies to tell his people anymore. So the King decides to hold a competition to see which one of his subjects is the best and most creative liar. The winner gets an amazing reward, or so he promises.  
> A few days later, the competition is on. Many people try to appease to the King with their lies, but the King laughs at them and sends them away, knowing that the lies are nothing but funny stories.  
> But then, a man comes forth and tells the King the following: “Your Highness, I would like to inform you that your father has taken a ton of gold from my father as a debt, ages ago. If this is a lie? Give me the promised reward. If it’s the truth – repay me my father’s gold.”  
> The King is impressed and admires the man’s intellect and lying skills. He agrees that the man most certainly deserves the reward. However, the reward turns out to be nothing but a box filled with stones!  
> So in the end, it’s the King who turns out to be the biggest liar – and the one who gets the biggest laugh out of all of it, just like he had wanted it.
> 
> This is a short story I randomly stumbled upon. It’s an old folktale passed through many generations of people… and that’s all I could find about it! However, in spite of that, I found it too compelling to ignore, so I decided to use the story anyway.


	25. The Spider's Thread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the holidays are over! I don't need to go to work though: I have to give online lessons to my students now. You might think that's pretty relaxed, but it's actually far, FAR from chill.^^;;; I'd rather see my students in real life instead of from behind a screen...  
> I have some cool lessons in store for some, though! Two of my classes are going to learn how to write a poem. You know - a real one! I hope the results will amaze me (in a good way XDDDDD)!
> 
> Ever felt like every single shred of hope inside of you has gotten brutally obliterated, _right_ when you thought you had most of things still under control? Yes? No? Well Al is going to find out the hard way what that feels like.
> 
> ...uhm, enjoy the update, still!! 8DDDDD

I quirked an eyebrow as Alastor carried on struggling against the tight, vice-like grip I had on his hand. It was like my hand was on fire and straight-up _burned_ him – that was just how horrified the look on his face was.

Huh. Well, how about them apples, he _really_ didn’t like to be touched.

“Um, Alastor? You _know_ I’m, like, _way_ stronger than you are, right?” I calmly informed him after a while, ‘cause he _just_ _wouldn’t_ _quit_ his sad attempts to free himself and it was getting fucking _annoying_ quickly. “I mean, I don’t want to sound like a douchebag and you seem _inspiringly_ determined to get out of my clutches, but Al – that’s what my daughter calls you, right? _Al_? – as long as I want to hold your filthy, misshapen claw of a hand, I _can_ hold it. And I _will_ hold it.”

Alastor finally seemed to get the message and stopped squirming and turning his wrist, unbending his back and showing me a _horrid_ , _dreadful_ and _abominable, sick_ grin on his face. It seemed to split his entire head in half – and it was just as unsettling to behold as watching that one, blood-red eye of his change into this weird radio dial-thing.

I gave him an approving smirk back upon seeing all that ugly monstrosity appear on his mug and whistled lowly, substantially impressed.

“Holy Pops in Heaven, Al – have you ever let my child see _that_ face? That’s fucked up, man, ha ha.”

He opened up his mouth. “I—”

“But not as fucked up as your _deranged_ plan to get her to Heaven.”

As soon as these words reached him, Alastor simmered down pretty much instantly - and so did that abysmal, larger-than-life ego of his. It all – poof – _deflated_ , right here in front of me. He stared at me, silenced, his facial features wiped clean of every bit of emotion, except for the most _beautiful, purest_ kind of _astonishment_. He almost looked smaller than me now – and _that’s_ saying something!

“You knew,” he said at last.

“Yup – but not for _too_ long,” I admitted. “Hell, in all honesty, I only found out about your ridiculous plan _yesterday_. You see, my brother Gabe told me he heard that Angel No. 9918233423645242537, or Hakim, or _Bob_ , as he apparently is called now, is still _alive_.”

Alastor got this blank stare again and didn’t reply.

I continued: “Now I had thought the poor Angel-guy-man had met his untimely death at your hands, you see, back in Hyde Park, so I was – _so_ confused! But then, I actually tried to fit all of the pieces together of this lame blackmail _-_ puzzle you left me with for the past few months… and then it suddenly just – _clicked_.”

Alastor still didn’t budge.

“You didn’t need Hakim – well I guess it’s _Bob_ now, huh – to get yourself a ticket to Heaven. You needed him to arrange one for _Charlotte_.” I groaned. “Ugghhh, I can’t _believe_ I didn’t realize that _sooner_. With sending my darling, naïve daughter up to Paradise, the _last_ hurdle that could possibly stop you from taking over Hell and burning everything down for your own twisted amusement, will be _gone_. It’s so totally _obvious_ now!”

“No,” he responded, in a typical spur-of-the-moment manner. “You’re wrong. It’s not like that. I love her. I – I love Charlie.”

I wasn’t impressed by his so-called heartfelt confession and snorted sarcastically. “Love? Okay pal – I’m willing to believe you care enough about my baby girl to at least get _her_ out of the path of all the death and destruction you’ve been planning to rain upon Hell – but _damn,_ Alastor, killing off _all_ of Hell’s inhabitants _but_ her – that’s not _love_ , that’s just first stabbing and then _twisting_ a fucking knife in her back! You _know_ how she is, right? Little Miss I’m-Going-To-Save-Everyone’s-Ungrateful-Ass-With-My-Dumb-Hotel?”

“I told you, that’s _not_ what I've been—”

For what seemed to be the _umpteenth_ time, I sighed and had to interrupt his jabbering. “Forget it, Alastor, it doesn’t _matter_ what you've been planning! It’s not going to fucking happen anyway!”

Alastor looked at me, unfazed. Seemed like some of his old _bravado_ had resurfaced.

“I can’t be bothered with what your stance is on this matter, Your Highness. Why – I couldn’t care _less_ , even. You’re not going to stop me.”

Oh, oh ho ho _ho_ , _fuck_ this guy, I _swear!_

“Are you listening to me? Wait, let me rephrase that – have you been listening to me at _all_?” I spread my eyes open wide at him. “What have I been telling you, _right from the moment_ we started having this fucking lovely walk-and-talk? Let me break it down for you _one_ last time, from the fucking top: like me and Lilith, Charlotte is _something completely different_ from _you_ , a mere, weak, human sinner. She’s lived _forever_ , just like me and Lilith have, and we will continue to do so, because _that’s just what we have to fucking **do**_! That’s _Hell_ for you! Charlotte is no sinner – and I’m not just saying that because my daughter the is nicest thing in Hell since those taco’s Mike can’t shut his trap about – no, I’m saying that because this means she **cannot be redeemed**!”

Alastor hesitated. “ I see. But—”

“But _what_? You honestly believed that _she_ , a good-hearted, yet _inhuman_ creature, could get 'salvation' anyway? Did _Bob_ say so?” I grinned and almost felt pity for him. “Geez, hate to burst your bubble, _Al,_ but Bob is just a small-fry who doesn’t know _shit_. He and you might both believe you can get my daughter up to Heaven, but that’s just because you _want_ to believe you can grand her Eternal Paradise. You _want_ to believe that there is a way to get her hybrid butt redeemed to Kingdom Come. Let me guess – Bob gave you all these strange conditions Charlotte needs to meet first, right? Like most _human sinners_ need to meet, in order to face an Angel. That’s cute – but it she _is no sinner_! **She’s not _human_! **So it’s _bullshit_ , Alastor. It’s all such _bullshit_. Bob’s fucking grasping at straws, like _you_ are.”

“Like I am?” Alastor tonelessly repeated my words.

“You're dying, aren’t you?” I pointedly said.

He was a clever, insightful guy, he had expected me to drop that bomb sooner or later, I’m sure – but it gave him quite a shock nevertheless, hearing me say it out loud like that. Snickering, I watched most of the color drain out of his already ashen-gray face.

“I might be,” he admitted.

“No, not ‘might be’. You _are_ dying. You have the Mark of the Fallen on your hand – pfft, looks like _someone_ underestimated Bob, huh? You have about two months left to live.” I let go of his hand, took out a handkerchief and wiped the Alastor-germs off of my own hand, scrunching up my nose in disgust. “Maybe you have a bit longer than that, since my waning angelic powers aren’t as strong or as reliable as they used to be, but still. Your time in Hell is running out, bucko.”

“Two months. That’s… much shorter than I had anticipated,” Alastor said.

“Shit – and hubris – happens, Al. Never forget that at the end of the day, you’re nothing but a dead man walking.”

“Clearly,” he muttered. “Well. I suppose that explains why you’re no longer interested in killing me.” 

I shrugged and beckoned him to come a little closer; it had almost been a whole hour already and we had to go back to the palace. His/my clothes, that _clearly_ were a bit too short and too tight for him in certain areas, looked a little ruffled though – and we couldn’t have _that,_ now. No, I had to show my dear Charlotte that I hadn’t hurt her spindly deer man!

“Why kill you if you’re going to give up the ghost in two months anyway?” I breezily told him as I dusted him off. “Turn around a little – yes, thank youuuu. I mean, hell, sure, I could pull out a Heavenly spear and stab you through the heart right this instant, but then I’d have to wait for such a _long_ time before Charlotte would be willing to talk to me again... and I just don’t want to do that. _Not_ if there’s a better alternative. So instead of murdering you now and suffer from the tedious consequences, I’ll just patiently sit these final two months out instead. I mean, the end result will be the same anyway: you’ll die and you’ll get absorbed by the Void. And afterwards, all that there's left for me to do is _be_ _there_ for my poor, grieving daughter, 'cause I guess she’ll need a shoulder to cry on. You get what I’m saying? That way, I can _both_ be a great father as I can get rid of _you_ , without dirtying my hands! See how _that_ works out for me!”

Alastor didn’t seem to like the way I was practically _roughhousing_ him while getting the wrinkles out of his/my ill-fitting clothing, but he didn’t complain. I bet there was a whole lot more going through his head than the fact I was going to let him live for convenient and utterly selfish reasons. He just didn’t have much to say. Then again, what was _left_ to say, really?

“Oh, and another thing,” I said, fixing the front of his/my vest, “I’ve watched you and my brothers interact yesterday evening – you know, _before_ you decided to pork my daughter like the swine you are – and let me tell you, you’re wasting your time. Using Charlotte to suck up to my brothers and try to get your gritty hands on God’s Horn? That won’t save your pathetic afterlife. Want to know why?”

I raised my face and met his.

“It doesn’t exist. God’s Horn is nothing but a myth, a popular rumor – and you can ask my brothers if you don’t believe me.”

Had to give credit where credit’s due: it was praiseworthy how well Alastor knew to maintain and suppress his undoubtedly _howling_ feelings right now. Shit, I had just mercilessly _obliterated_ every bit of hope the guy had of 'redeeming' Charlotte _and_ I basically told him everything he had been doing up to this point to save his own hide was for naught, and yet he _still_ was able to hold that motherfucking _smile_ on his face, even if the smile had never looked more worn-out than it did now.

“I see,” he weakly said. “So it’s impossible to escape the Void.”

“Oh, you bet. The Void is _ruthless_ , really – it’s like this big, black area of nothing, totally devoid of light, materials and sounds. It’s despair in its final, most _frightening_ form – a form that ultimately devours everything that lingers around in it whole, even the mere _memory_ of people, their souls and objects. Everything – poof, _gone_. Just like that. Every heartbeat, every emotion, every thought. Everything that’s good and everything that’s evil. Everything that holds any meaning. Everything that _doesn’t_. _And_ my damn _car_ _keys_. Can you imagine my frustration – I had been looking for them _all over_ the place and then I found them _in there_ of all places! And then they _disappeared_ , _right_ as I was staring at them! So fucking _frustrating_ , I really _needed_ those metal sons of bitches!”

I shook my head and peeked over my shoulder, to the Royal Palace, before swiftly planting a nudging elbow into Alastor’s side. It was getting late, after all.

“But hey, come on, let’s return to the others now. It’s almost time and I don’t feel like getting scolded by my dear Charlotte.”

Alastor made an agreeing sound – I think – and tagged along with me, in absolute silence.

  
**LLL**

**  
**I had never thought I’d ever say this, but on our way back to the castle, I learned that there apparently was something that got even _more_ on my nerves than a regular, wisecracking Alastor – and that was a gloomy, _muted_ Alastor. Even his damn invisible radio audience, that had constantly (and anxiously) been crackling in the background during our little chat, was not giving even the softest buzz or peep anymore.

Fucking _unnerving_ , dammit! I was an outgoing and _rambunctious_ kind of guy – I couldn’t _stand_ silence, not even when it was the result of something I had done. I _needed_ noise! Sounds! Commotion! Voices! _Anything_ but _nothing_!

And it was still a pretty lengthy walk back to the girls, too!

Just my fucking _luck_!

Bemoaning the rest of my boring walk and cursing inwardly, I glanced to the side, to where Alastor was walking. He had an indescribable look on his face as he held up his hurt hand and stared at the cross on the back of it. I wanted to make a comment on that, first... but then, there was something _else_ that happened to catch my attention: a red ribbon or something, tied to his ring finger. I hadn’t really taken notice of it before, but come to think of it, yeah – he had been walking around with that stupid thing looped around his finger for a long time now, hadn’t he?

What was up with that?

“You're talking about this bookmarker?” Alastor said when I asked him about it. “Ah, well. It's a promise between me and your daughter.”

“I know a sappy, _stupid_ promise when I see one,” I roared, relieved he at least was making bothersome sounds come out of his bullshit-spreading mouth again. “Did my dear Charlotte wrap your finger up like that?”

“She did.”

I chuckled. “Knew it. Why did she do that, though? Does she – _pfft_ – wants to _marry_ your lying, bony ass or something?”

“She does.” 

Always the thoughtful adult, I ceased my snickering and yipped out loud instead, like a dog that just got kicked in the rear. Subsequentely, I gripped my chest and started to gurgle, clawing at Alastor’s arm and burrowing my nails into his flesh _so_ viciously Alastor actually visibly flinched at it. He even had to stop walking for a moment.

“She- Charlotte – wants to **_marry you?!_** ”

“That’s what I said, Sire.”

“But **_WHY?_** ”

“Because she loves me.”

“But **_WHY?_** ”

“Because she wants me to be with her always.”

“But **_WHY?_** ”

“Because Charlie’s a helpless romantic like that. And she probably purely acted on her emotions.”

“But **_WHY?_** ”

“Because I was too… slow, too foolish and too frightened of what could come, to be the one to ask her, first. She beat me to it.”

“But **_WH—_** ”

“Not _this_ time, though.” Alastor muttered. “This might come in handy.” 

Before I could spit out another agonizing ‘but why’, the slowly decaying deer demon _abruptly_ smacked his hands on my shoulders, giving me the most unsmiling and piercing stare he given me all day – and that’s counting the distressful look of earlier.

“Your Highness, will you let me?”

I really, _really_ didn’t like the direction my looping whines had taken me into and I gaped at the Radio Demon, completely _stupefied_. No, for real: my mouth was wide open, but I couldn’t form words anymore. Bugs were able to fly right in and out of it just _fine_ though. My jaw had gotten so unhinged, I wouldn’t be surprised if Alastor was staring _straight_ at my tonsils at this very moment. I bet they looked inflamed.

“What,” I accomplished croaking out.

“King Lucifer Magne,” Alastor hastily started over again, taking in a deep breath, “will you allow me, Alastor, to have Charlie’s – Princess Charlotte Magne’s hand in marriage?”

What?

What?

WHAT?

This sad asshole had _just heard_ he wasn’t going to give my daughter the Heavenly salvation she deserved _and_ that he, _plus_ the mere _memory_ of him, was going to fade away. He was going to die a very horrible, painful and useless death. His plan had _failed_. ALL of his elaborate plans and schemes had failed, _spectacularly_ and _magnificently_ – and yet, **_this_** _was what was on his fucking mind?_

**What the fuck was wrong with this guy?!**

_  
_**CcC**

 **  
**With many conflicting feelings, I slowly approached the door leading to the dining room.

So. For the first time in ages, I was going to have breakfast with my mother again.

Huh… I mean… it had been such a long time ago, I could hardly recall the last time I had breakfast with her. Not because it had been a while since I had moved out of the castle (that wasn’t really the case), but because… well…

Mom and dad just – didn’t _have_ breakfast with me.

Sure, when I was still a kid and mom and dad were still my heroes, we used to _always_ eat breakfast together, first thing in the morning. It was normal to have my dad wake me up, lift me up, plop me down on his shoulders and take me downstairs, where mom would be waiting at a richly-filled breakfast table. I’d sit in-between my parents, happily stuff my face with everything I loved to eat, and mom and dad would talk about what was on the schedule for the three of us that day, and they'd clean my face, and – and I don’t know, things just seemed so much _simpler_ back then. _Better_. 

At some point, when I got older, much changed all of a sudden. Not my dad, but Razzle and Dazzle would come wake me up and take me downstairs. And not my mom would be waiting for me at that table, but – nobody. Just… plain nobody. I’d eat breakfast at this big, intimidating table all by myself, get my face all smudged up, realize that there was no one around who’d wipe my face and that it could take many hours before somebody would finally point out my sloppy face to me – and I’d feel miserable.

So – so _miserable_.

Later, I learned that mom and dad apparently had decided overnight that I had gotten old enough to eat by myself... and to be left by myself. They were busy elites, the rulers of Hell even, and there were much more important things that required their attention than humoring their spoiled daughter. Besides, they probably had gotten fed up with me at this point in time. They knew I was different from most sinners and hell-spawns and I bet they were mortified to find out just _how_ unusual and weird I was, because of my… everything. I rather not think about it too much, but it wouldn’t come as a surprise to me if they told me they just couldn’t _stand_ spending more time with me, their failure of a daughter, than was absolutely needed.

I’m not sure this really was the case.

But I had grown to fear that there was another, even _worse_ reason behind their sudden loss of interest in me – and so I never asked them.

I sighed and smacked myself on the cheeks. Alright Charlie – enough of that moping around! Things are _different_ now! Your parents are now _desperate_ for your attention – so desperate that mom even wants to have _breakfast_ with you, just like old times! 

I briefly, yet heavily inhaled air through my nose, and then I opened the door.

  
**CcC  
  
**

Inside the room, my mother was waiting for me.

“ _There_ you are. Good morning, my dear apple beignet,” she immediately greeted me as I closed the door behind me.

Upon seeing her sitting there, and smelling all the lovely smells, nostalgia and bittersweet melancholy filled up my already weakened mind, out of nowhere. I bit my lower lip, fighting against the tears that were trying to seep out of my eyes.

“H-hi, mom. Good morning to you, too.”

“Look, Charlie,” my mother said after a short silence, standing up from her chair and pointing awkwardly at all the fruit, bread, eggs and what-not displayed on the table, not noticing my distress, “it’s breakfast.”

“Yes, it’s breakfast,” I acknowledged the feast.

“I wish I could tell you I made all of this, but that isn’t so. I let the servants make this.”

“That’s alright, mom.”

“I did help with the preperations.”

“Oh, what did you do?”

“I looked on.”

“Ah.”

“I also gently threatened the maids that didn’t polish our plates and cutlery efficiently enough. With a fork. You know which one.”

“Way to go, mom.”

“And look, I even let them make cinnamon buns. For you.” My mother had a _ridiculously_ straight face as she pulled out a cutesy little basket with a big, pink bow strapped on it out of the heap of food, which was filled to the brim with delicious cinnamon buns. “You like cinnamon buns, don’t you?”

I chuckled weakly. “I _love_ cinnamon buns.”

“Yes. Of course you do. And of course I knew this, because I am your mother.” Still, mom seemed very relieved when she sat down again and gestured to the seat next to hers. “Sit down, sweetie.”

I did just that – and I let my mother chuck the abundance of cinnamon buns on my plate.

“Now Charlie,” she said afterwards, sitting down and neatly folding a napkin on her lap, “how was all the sex you had last night?”

Understandably, I nearly choked into the very first bite of cinnamon bun and had to gulp down a full glass of milk before I was able to reply to her. In the meantime, my unconcerned mother very helpfully patted me on the back.

“Ah. I knew you’d appreciate some milk as well,” she said, nodding contently. “There’s nothing like a fresh glass of milk after such a busy night. Your father is just the same.” 

“Mom!” I finally wheezed, “you can’t just – _ask_ me about sex all of a sudden!”

She batted her huge, purple eyes at me. “ _Didn’t_ you have sex last night, then?”

“I – well – y-yes, of course I did—”

“Wasn’t it to your liking, perhaps? That’s no good. You know what could happen if you get – _frustrated_. In more ways than one.”

“No –yes – I mean – mom – it… it was _very_ _much_ to my liking…”

“Now, was that so hard to say?” mom asked, tsssk-ing and sounding a bit insulted. “For Hell’s sake, Charlie, it’s just the two of us in here anyway – and it’s not like I asked you to describe to me in technicolor _if_ and _how_ you milked Alastor dry last night.”

 _Milked him dry_ – oh my _god_. I blushed, rubbing my also reddened neck. “Y-you didn’t ask me _that_ , no.”

“…did you though?”

My limbs flubbed and I accidentally sent a cinnamon bun flying in the process. “ _Mom_!”

“I want to know,” mom sternly replied, as her eyes followed the airborne cinnamon bun, even as it crashed down into a bowl of gruel, splattering bits of white goo everywhere. “so did you?”

I huffed and took another cinnamon bun, staring fiercely at it. “This is _insane_ , mom. I can’t _believe_ we’re having this conversation. It’s _embarrassing_.”

My mom sighed, backing out a little. “Alright, alright, I admit I may have gone a bit overboa—”

“I made him faint.”

She shut up _right_ _away_ and leaned on her elbows, waiting for me to carry on.

I swallowed. It was _unbelievably_ embarrassing for me to share this intimate stuff with my mother, but, at the same time, it was so very _nice_ to have her full attention, for once. _Naturally_ I had her full attention – I was talking about her favorite topic, after all. Automatically, I started to ramble.

“I… wanted to – you know – perform oral sex on him, and at first he was like ‘oh my dear god no Charlie gross I’ll die’ and then I was like ‘okay then I won’t’ and then he was like ‘oh but wait maybe I do want to try it out anyway’ and then I was like ‘OKAY THEN I WILL’ and then I put his dick in my mouth and he kind of passed out.”

I verbal-projectile-vomited it _all_ out, just like that. Then I watched my mom again.

Her mouth twitched. “You… let a _full_ - _grown_ _man_ and one of the more _dangerous_ tyrants of Hell pass out during sex.”

I shuddered. “Yes.”

“Sounds like you and I have more in common than I thought.”

“Yeah – wait, what?”

“Oh, nothing, dear.” Mom pinched my cheek with two sharp fingers. “My little sinner-sucking slayer! I’m so _proud_ of you!”

“Oh _shit,_ mom, _please_ don’t _ever_ call me that again,” I nervously said – but giggled nevertheless.

And then something bizarre happened: my mother began to chuckle as well! There first was a slight smile appearing on her usually so disinterested face, then her dark lips opened up and after that, actual _laughing noises_ came from her mouth! She even thought it was better to bring a hand to her face and shield her giggling from my stunned face – it was such an unusual occurrence, she believed that me watching her laugh was _embarrassing,_ for some reason!

But not for long: seeing her like _this_ was so _strange_ and yet so endearingly _contagious_ – I found myself bursting out in laughter as well, and it wasn’t before long that the already very comfortable and easy-going mood in the dining room grew even _more_ pleasant. Our wheezy, high-pitched giggles and sniggers even attracted the attention of a couple of butlers, who came to check on us, and the fit of laughter lasted long enough to leave the both of us teary-eyed and breathless.

My ribs hurt and I couldn’t see well anymore, but I didn’t give a damn about that: it was all worth it, because I had just shared a laugh with my mother! We had laughed at something – _together_! God – I couldn’t recall when the last time was that had happened, but I enjoyed it so much it almost made me tear up for a _third_ time (and for yet another, totally different reason).

Did this mean that there still was a connection between us after all? Was there… still some hope left for us?

  
**CcC**   
  


Of course, at a certain point, the laughter grew less and less, until it totally stopped.

But that was alright! The amiable atmosphere in the bright room remained – and my mom and I actually had a light-hearted conversation about this and that and so-and-so as we ate breakfast. During our time together, I even managed to eat some delicious cinnamon buns _without_ almost suffocating in them (or throwing them around the room), and since I was a shaky, nervous mess that feared the nice absurdity of this moment could be over at any given moment, I barely allowed myself to really savor the taste.

It was sweet though.

And _god,_ how much I _craved_ sweet things!

My mother was still smiling when she watched me swallowing the last bits of the sixth cinnamon bun, tilting her head a bit.

“My! It seems that I had forgotten just how big of an appetite you have.”

I looked at her and her questioning eyes, and I felt a bit flustered, picking the sugary bits of the just-devoured bun off my cheeks with the tips of my fingers and putting them in my mouth.

“Uhm, I don’t _always_ have such a big appetite. It’s just that – well, apparently, I sometimes just… _get_ like this, when there’s food I really love around. I – can’t really help it. It’s usually sugary food.”

“Is that so,” my mother said, eyeing me up and down. “Interesting.”

Feeling a bit self-conscious, I pulled the pink shirt I had slipped into this morning further down. “Is that wrong? You think I should – cut back on the sugar?”

Instead of answering me, my mother simply shook her head, shoved her chair closer to mine and turned my face her way. I thought I was going to cry for another, _fourth_ time when she took my napkin from the table and started rubbing the smudgy cinnamon leftovers from my chin and cheeks. She – rubbed a bit too harshly and it stung, because mom was just - no good at being a mom, but it was that same feeling I had missed for _so very long_ – and I tried to sit as still as possible.

I didn’t want to ruin it.

I _really_ didn’t want to ruin it.

But the question popped out before I realized it.

“Why did you and dad stopped eating breakfast with me? Stopped… doing fun things with me in general?”

My mother’s concentrated gaze went from my sticky mouth to my eyes.

Suddenly feeling worried about what she’d say and regretting my question, I backpedaled and stuttered: “Oh, you… don’t really _have_ to answer that, I’m sure you and dad had a very good reason to—”

“To protect you, Charlie.” Mom frowned as she attempted to rub a very persistent bit of sugar off my face. “You were such an adorable girl when you were young – well, you still are, you are me and your father’s child after all – but you were also so very _weak_. So _vulnerable_. So _gullible_. You didn’t have a mind of your own and you didn’t have a single mean bone in your happy-go-lucky body, so there was a very real and possible threat of you getting kidnapped by your father’s enemies one day.”

“And you thought that just – leaving me on my own would _lessen_ that threat,” I said, a bit testier than I had wanted to sound. “Because that’s obviously the right thing to do, when your teen daughter can possibly get kidnapped: just… ignore and _avoid_ her.”

“Yes.” My mom put away the napkin she had cleaned my face with and sat up some more. “Naturally.”

I felt I was getting angry. “What do you mean, ‘naturally’? There was nothing ‘natural’ about that!”

My mom didn’t like the tone my voice had gotten and her expression grew colder. Her smile disappeared, too.

“Charlie, need I remind you of where you live? This isn’t Paradise. This is _Hell_. The _Underworld_. You already were an odd duck and easy target in this world because of your kind and forgiving nature, and the _last_ thing your father and I wanted to do was tarnishing you even _further_. We didn’t want to encourage you to – get used to nice things, because Hell isn’t a nice place to begin with.”

“Okay, fine, but that _doesn’t_ explain why you both suddenly – _left_ me. Hypothetically speaking.”

She rolled with her eyes, already getting tired of this conversation now that it was taking a less-pleasant turn. “We did that on purpose of course, my little apple beignet, to make the dangerous individuals in Hell believe we were _ashamed_ of you. If we’d let your daddy’s enemies think you were worthless in our eyes, they no longer would try to kidnap you. You’d be _safe_. You’d grow _stronger_. You—”

“No. Cut it out. Your aloof attitude towards me did _not_ make me feel safer or stronger.” I stared at her, my lips twitching helplessly. “I was _lonely_ , mom.”

My mother’s eyes softened a bit at that. “You felt lonely? Even with Razzle and Dazzle?”

“I didn’t _feel_ lonely. I _was_ lonely. You think two cute, but quiet goat bodyguards could fill up the glaring gap you and dad left behind? _Really_? Jesus, mom, I thought you and dad – didn’t like me anymore.”

“But of _course_ your father and I still liked you, silly girl. Like I said – it was all just a ruse, Charlie, to protect the Princess and future ruler of Hell from harm.” Mom seemed confused and even slightly distraught when she saw my face. “What’s the matter? Why are you upset? It _worked_ , did it not? By the time you came of age and went your own way, nobody in Hell cared about you anymore.”

I—

I wanted to say something, _sooo badly_ , but I was afraid the things I’d say would be as poisonous and as destructive as I felt they were – so I remained silent and looked away from her.

The air around us had gotten thick and polluted with our words, drifting around the room like dark thunderclouds, filled with tension and frustration. My stoic mother, who never was a champion at reading a room in the first place (sadly enough), still thought we could carry on our breakfast together and tried to start a new topic: my Heavenly uncles.

“Michael, Gabriel and Raphael stayed over for the night as well,” I heard her say, while I began to fidget with the tablecloth. “Shall I send a servant to summon them? I’m sure they’d love to share a meal with their one and only niece. That will brighten your mood.”

“ _No_ ,” I said, with clenched teeth. “I’m sorry, but I – I just want to go home now. I hope dad and Al will return from their walk soon.”

“Will they brighten your mood?”

“ _Al_ will.” 

My mother clacked her tongue, which told me she had about _enough_ of my rebellious behavior. “Oh, _really_ now?”

“Yes, _really_ ,” I huffed.

“You think _Alastor_ will lift your mood? The _one_ man who’s been _expertly_ lying, scheming and manipulating you behind your back all this time – _he_ , of all people, will cheer you up?”

What the actual _hell_?!

I snapped my head up and glared at my mother. “What a _horrible_ thing to say! Alastor isn’t… he…”

The words I had intended to spit at her died a quick and lackluster death in my mouth as I noticed the expression on my mother’s face. She didn’t give me a stern, defiant or belittling look, but she seemed to be – _shocked_ at herself, at her words. Her eyebrows were raised up high, her rapidly-fluttering eyes refused to meet mine and I even thought I saw a hint of pink appearing on her delicate cheeks. 

My heart started to race and for a moment, I didn’t hear or see anything else anymore – not my noisy uncles, who suddenly entered the dining room, nor my father and Alastor, who had also decided to choose _this_ exact moment to join us for breakfast.

It should have made me feel happy and delighted: finally! A breakfast with everybody I considered my loved ones – my _family_. How wonderful. How lovely.

But all I saw was my mother’s guilt-ridden face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During one of Shakyamuni’s (Buddha's other name) strolls around Paradise, he stops near a pond. Between the lilies drifting on the water, he can see the depths of Hell… and his eyes meet those of the sinner Kandata.  
> In life, Kandata was a hardened and awful criminal with only one good deed to his name: he had once spared the life of a single spider when he was about to crush the little creature. Shakyamuni is so moved and impressed by this rare act of kindness that he decides to lower a silver thread of a spider in Paradise into Hell.  
> Meanwhile, down in the ghastly pits of Hell, Kandata sees the silvery thread descending towards him – and the criminal doesn’t hesitate for a second: he grabs the thread with everything he has and starts to climb upwards, to Paradise. It’s a pretty tough climb to Paradise though, and he stops halfway, glancing downwards. Upon realizing he might actually reach Heaven and seeing just how far he has come already, he starts to laugh at the other sinners… but his laughter stops instantly when he watches the others climb the spider’s thread as well! He fears the thread might break by all the extra weight and yells at the other degenerates: “This thread is mine and mine only!”  
> Immediately, the thread breaks – and Kandata plummets back into Hell, together will all the others. Shakyamuni sees all of this and sighs: he had expected Kandata to only be concerned by his own salvation and not that of others, but it’s still kind of sad for him to witness. Then he continues his walk. 
> 
> The Japanese writer Ryunosuke Akutagawa (1892 – 1927) based this short story on a fable by the Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821 – 1881), called ‘The Fable of the Onion’. It’s largely the same thing, but the evil man described in Akutagawa’s story is a woman in Dostoevsky’s work and the spider’s thread is… well, an onion.


	26. The Boy Who Cried Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday, we were told that the lockdown measures in my country will get prolonged until the 9th of February. So that means I'll be stuck at home for... well, at least three more weeks.  
> It's a good thing I'm perfectly able to keep myself busy with online classes, writing and games, because otherwise, I probably would be bored out of my skull. Oh well! At least my cat is happy to have me home!^^
> 
> Last week's update was pretty hard on Alastor. Let's not leave Charlie out on all the... fun?
> 
> _Songs that get mentioned:_
> 
> ['Wannabe'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJLIiF15wjQ) by the Spice Girls  
> ['Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eTeg1txDv8w) by Crash Test Dummies  
> ['Losing My Religion'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwtdhWltSIg) by R.E.M.  
> ['Tearin' Up My Heart'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ZcmuKsyvzg) by *NSYNC

Much to my chagrin, it took me far too long to realize something was horribly amiss, when Lucifer and I returned from our walk in the backyard.

Was it because of the subjects we had spoken about? Perhaps. Was it because I happened to have… _quite_ some problems gnawing on my already troubled mind at the moment? Could be. Was it because I was simply tired, which was the logical end result of certain... _activities_ that had taken place, the night before? Possibly.

But what a _strange_ ambiance there was, in the dining room.

Like I said, it took my numbed brain a while to recover a little and truly become _vividly_ aware of the mood – because as soon as Lucifer, Charlie’s Heavenly uncles and I joined my darling lover and her mother for breakfast, a mild case of controlled chaos broke out, temporarily concealing the obvious tenseness in the room.

It turned out that Archangel Michael was too broad to fit in any of the antique chairs stationed in the dining room, so servants kept coming in and out to let the enormously _buff_ Archangel try out diverse kinds of chairs (collected from all over the palace), in the hopes to find one that would be to Michael’s difficult rear’s liking.

Meanwhile, Archangel Gabriel wanted to have the last cinnamon bun, but so did Archangel Raphael. He and his brother then decided to solve the heated (well not exactly _heated_ , but still rather… _warm_ ) dispute by playing rocks-papers-scissors. They were now comparing pieces of food and cutlery to one another to see what would fittingly resemble a rock, a piece of paper and a pair of scissors. I tried to reason with them by pointing out they could just use their _hands_ for that game, but this was quickly dismissed, since the two of them found this a _ridiculous_ idea.

“I am _blind_ , sinner ma- I mean, Alastor,” Raphael solemnly said, as if this was news to me. “So how will using our hands help me find out which one of the three available choices my honorable brother makes?”

“You could – well, say – just _play_ the game and _feel_ what form his hand makes, afterwards?” I matter-of-factly suggested. “Also, I’m sitting on your _right_ side, Mister Raphael. You’re currently calling _Lucifer_ Alastor.”

“And _please_ don’t call Lucifer Alastor, you blind bat,” Lucifer growled, instinctively squeezing the soft-boiled egg he had just taken from a bowl to mush. “Eww. Goddammit – now I have slimy, sticky goo all over me!”

“That is what she said,” Gabriel winked to Charlie.

Charlie didn’t react.

“ _Ha_!” Raphael said to no one in particular – and turned towards me, not-accidentally whacking Lucifer in the disgruntled face with his robust wings in the process (“ _Ow_ – now I got _feathers_ in my egg-pulp, you damn sightless son of a—!”). “Why, young man, you think Gabe would _not_ change his handshape, if I happened to win this thrilling contest? Do you _sincerely_ believe he would _not_ sink to the _lowest_ of depths, if only to get his hands on the item he so desires?”

“Now that is just _rude_ , Raph,” Gabriel calmly intercepted, already halfway through eating the last cinnamon bun. “I would _never_ do such a thing.”

“Is that cinnamon I smell on your breath, dear brother, or is this simply the scent _dirty_ _cheaters_ emit by default?”

“It is the scent of you, losing. Should be a familiar scent.”

Raphael smiled eerily and scooped up a gracious portion of butter with his bare hands. “Allow me to smudge this creamy broth into your hair, you horrible, horrible person.”

His brother sighed in defeat – and then shoved Lucifer closer to the other sibling.

Who started to scream, of course: “Hey, what are you— GAH— I’m NOT – would you STOP SMEARING BUTTER ON ME, you SHUT-EYED _FUCK_!” 

I looked on, shaking my head in amused disbelieve as Raphael, Gabriel and Lucifer engaged into a small, yet fierce and disgusting food fight, and I considered myself incredibly fortunate that neither Charlie nor I had any siblings. Family gatherings at the Magne’s place were rampageous enough as they were already, by the looks of it. Not to mention downright _destructive_.

But enough about them – for many reasons, I had it about up to _here_ with everybody even _remotely_ related to that godforsaken Lucifer.

…well.

 _Almost_ everybody.

I stopped watching the Heavenly brothers assault one another with mugs, salt shakers and peanut butter jars and rested my gaze on Charlie instead, who was sitting on my other side. Amid the brotherly bickering and munching, she and her mother had remained – _remarkably_ clammed up and passive. Charlie had been staring at her empty plate for a while now, and Lilith had skillfully decimated a paper tissue to nothing but small, white shreds of junk.

They both looked terribly _pale_.

Worried, I took Charlie’s hand from her lap and gave it a tender squeeze.

“What’s the matter, my love? Are you still feeling conflicted about the walk and chat your father and I had?”

She raised her eyes in order to let them greet my own. “Oh, uhm, Al…”

“Don’t be!” I forced myself to grin and brought the back of her cold hand to my mouth, kissing it. “I have to admit the topics we talked about were pretty – grueling, but it had a _very_ satisfying conclusion, I have to say!”

His Royal Majesty momentarily forgot about all the egg and butter that was sadly wasted on him and threw me a urgent look, hissing: “No – NO! I know I said I won’t stop you outside, but you’re NOT asking her HERE, not NOW! I fucking FORBID it! Ask her here and I swear on my Pops’ toes that I’ll choke you with a Swedish cracker!”

“…you mean knäckebröd?”

“I KNOW WHAT I SAID!”

“Threating me with knäckebröd. My, how very _frightening_ ,” I chuckled. “You hear that, Charlie?”

Charlie, however, didn’t see the humor in all of this and looked more irritated than curious, I had to say.

“Ask me what?" she wanted to know. "What does dad mean?"

I simply shook my head and smiled affably, removing some leftover sugar from the corners of her lips with my thumb and licking the digit clean right after. “It’s nothing you should worry yourself about, my dear. I’ll tell you all about it later, hmm…? I’m sure you’ll like it!”

Normally, this _daring_ flirtation would have given me a _very_ deep, slightly excited blush from her as a reward. Charlie always looked so insufferably _adorable_ and _attractive_ when that beautiful, porcelain skin of hers was decorated with the most mesmerizing shades of pink and red, letting me know exactly what she felt and what went through her head when she flushed and smiled like that…

…but this time, she just looked at me with big, perturbed eyes, her expression displaying a level of distress that threw me off, made me want to start a portion of this day all over again. My darling didn’t look like this _before_ Lucifer and I went on our walk. She had been… _content_ , at ease. She had been _smiling_ back then. But now…

What had happened when I was gone? What, exactly, had she discussed with Lilith? Why did it make her look like – _this_? 

“Charlie?” I felt my smile shrinking considerably. “In all seriousness, sweetheart – are you alright? Do you feel ill, perhaps?”

Charlie shook her head, but didn’t stop me from checking her forehead anyway. She wasn’t feeling hot, I concluded, but she still looked like she could get sick any moment now.

“I’m not sick, I – I just want to go back to the hotel, that’s all,” Charlie said, as soon as I removed my hand from her face, and she slipped off of her chair. “I’ll go call Husk to tell him he can come pick us up, alright? Will you go fetch our clothes upstairs in the meantime, Alastor?”

“That’s not necessary,” Lilith quickly said, finally opening her mouth. “I’ll take care of your clothes for you and have them delivered at your hotel later. Don’t worry about it.”

Charlie beamed a weak grin at her mother. “No, mom. You don’t have to wash our things. And don’t feel too bad, alright? You’re – _not_ the one at fault here, surprisingly enough. Not at all. It’s pretty much the other way around, really: you kind of _helped_ me.”

Lilith gradually lowered herself into her chair again and gave her daughter a small nod. “If you say so.”

I found this small bit of dialogue _excruciating_. But why?

Puzzled, I looked at Lilith’s face. Then I took a gander at Charlie’s face. As I observed these women, a tiny, yet insistent spark of anxiety was suddenly ignited in my already overtaxed thought process. It was slowly but surely starting to make me feel confused, alerted and on edge. It created an abstract, urgent need to fight-or-flight inside of me, and it grew bigger and bigger, pressing painfully against my insides, waiting for me to pick a choice. 

I turned to Charlie. “Charlie, what is—”

“The _clothes_ , Al?” Charlie smiled at me, but there was so much wrong with that smile that I rather watched anything else – just _anything_ else but _that_. “Please go get the clothes. Okay?”

“Alright,” I heard myself say, taken aback. 

She barely seemed to receive my words. After halfheartedly waiting for my answer, she simply took out her phone and walked out of the dining room, leaving me and everyone else in a complete and all-consuming silence. It was nerve-wrecking, and bothersome, and so _massive_ , and it pushed down on me like a heavy, physical weight. It felt like a burden that could easily crush us to nothing but dust every second now – _all_ of us, but mostly _me_.

As soon as Charlie had left the room, the uncles’ eyes – all black, round, big and accusing – were drawn to me, I acknowledged, and every single one of these eyes’ owners had the same urgent question hidden within them:

_What did you do?_

Lucifer and Lilith _didn’t_ look at me, however. Lucifer just _smirked_ and took a sip of his tea, thinking his own thoughts and making up his own conclusions, while Lilith’s eyes made sure they’d never come in direct contact with mine as she cut through a freshly-baked croissant and pursed her lips together tightly.

And that was when I knew. Well, that’s not exactly true – that’s when I got a _hunch_ about what could possibly have happened, while Lucifer and I hadn’t been around.

It was _not_ _good_.

Fortunately enough, the unsaid question on the uncles’ minds was never uttered out loud, so I didn’t have to answer it, thank goodness. Why, I wasn’t in the right position to answer it now anyway, because the second the bitter reality of the situation struck me, I made sure to excuse myself in order to go collect my and Charlie’s clothes… _and_ my spinning thoughts, naturally.

Time. I needed more time.

  
**AaA**

**  
**It seemed to take him many torturous _hours_ (hours that made the already suffocating ambiance inside of the palace grow worse and less tolerable with every strained breath I took), but eventually, Husker parked the limousine in front of the Royal Palace's gates. Charlie and I had been waiting there, on that sandy pathway, ever since leaving her former home.

We – hadn't said much during that period of time.

Well.

 _Charlie_ hadn't said much.

I had – rather pathetically, truth be told – attempted to talk about random, cute nonsense with her, but it seemed like nothing really got through to her. She was so – _aloof_. Oh she kindly played her part as the patient lover alright: she smiled whenever I told her something she was supposed to find funny, she nodded when I needed her to agree with something I said and she answered the questions I asked her, but… it felt off. It felt _forced_. Conversations with Charlie had never felt forced before, but now, it was almost as if I was wading through a syrupy, pasty swamp, desperately trying to reach my destination at the other side of it. And I couldn’t reach it.

I couldn’t reach _her_.

“Holy _fuck_ , did you two attend to a party or a goddamn funeral? What’s up with the long faces?”

Husker’s rough voice brought me back to the here and now, and when I looked up, there he was, holding the door for Charlie. Charlie seemed relieved to see him and climbed into the vehicle instantly.

“Hi Husk. Everything’s okay! Don’t worry.”

“Yeah? Pull the other one.” He frowned his furry eyebrows critically at her. “You look like _crap_ , Princess.”

“I’m glad to see you, too.”

Husker flustered and nearly slammed to door against her in panic. “Wha – I _literally_ said you look like crap!”

She let out an obligatory giggle, but ended their little conversation right then and there. She sat down on one of the car’s backseats, cradling her head in her hand and turning her face resolutely towards the window of the door, as I valiantly tried to get my _impossible_ long limbs into the inconvenient limousine as well.

While I continued struggling to get in – I couldn’t remember it being so difficult to enter the blasted vehicle when we came here yesterday? – Husker stared at Charlie. His eyes were dark and concerned, and when I finally had taken my seat, the cat demon leaned towards me through the window.

“Hey, uh, Al?”

“Yes?” I said with a sigh, straightening my back – as much as I was able to, that is.

“Did you boogie-woogie so much last night that you plainly forgot to also fuck Her Highness a little, or did you just _suck_ at it too har—”

White radio noise _immediately_ buzzed through the car and his words, and I smashed a hand against his mug.

“—aaaardly _anybody_ can have a good opinion on _that_ , dear Husker! Ha ha ha!” I hysterically cackled through his words, keeping an eye on Charlie’s – still unmoving – figure. Then I shot an annoyed grin at my partner in crime, lowering my voice and hand.

“First of all, that is _none_ of your business, second, _no_ , I _didn’t_ forget to have sexual intercourse with her, and third, it – it was _good_.”

Husker massaged his snout. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“ _How_ good?”

“I passed out.”

“You fuckin’ _what_.”

“Ha! I’m not going to repeat that again, my pesky radio audience is already having enough of a field day with this information as it is. Now! Would you _please_ be so kind to bring us back to the hotel? ASAP?”

A part of me hoped that Husker would burst into a mocking, raspy kind of laughter – the kind of laughter he always shared with others when something embarrassing or unpleasant had happened to me. That usually distracted him enough to carry on gloating and forget all about his original questions or worries, and he’d stop meddling with my businesses or getting stressed about things he shouldn’t feel anxious about.

This time was different, however.

Husker snickered a little at my misfortune, naturally, but his smile was gone again when he glanced at Charlie once more. He _harrumped_ weightily, pointed a paw at her and glared my way.

“You see this girl? See how she fuckin’ _looks_? _You_ did this. You were supposed to give her a _good_ time, remember? Not… fuck _, this_. I don’t know _what_ your prudish, fainting fuckface did, but it looks bad and you better _fix_ it.”

“I will.”

“Fix it _all_.” He growled. “I’m sick and tired of it, Alastor. Tell her. And fuckin’ _hope_ it’s not too late for you yet.”

I didn’t react to this comment, I simply sat there and leered forebodingly at him until the feline sinner got the message and backed down, stomping off to the driver’s seat of the gaudy, white car. He got in and slammed the door with a _smack_ brutal and harsh enough to let the tacky rearview mirror plummet down from the ceiling. Husk groaned loudly and as he and his ancient, hairy back bent towards the passenger’s seat to look for the missing mirror, I cautiously moved myself closer to Charlie.

I cleared my throat. “Charlie dear?”

“Yes?”

“Can we talk for a bit?” Again, I took one of her hands. It seemed to be clenched into a tight ball of white flesh, and I didn’t even _try_ to pry it open. “And would you please be so kind to actually _take_ _part_ in the dialogue this time?”

Charlie didn’t do or say anything at first, but then I saw her body raising and falling, a sign she had in- and exhaled deeply. She slowly moved herself around, until she faced me. Thankfully, her face looked less apathetic and unapproachable now (maybe because we weren’t surrounded by her family members at the moment, or because I wasn’t talking aimlessly to her anymore). Feeling more confident now that I had her attention at last, I folded my hand around her fist.

“Hello, my dear,” I smiled.

A careful smile appeared on her face as well. “Hi Al.”

“Your mother told you something disturbing about me, didn’t she?” I (admittedly bluntly) asked, rubbing my hand over hers.

“Getting straight to the point, huh?” Charlie’s gentle smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. “About time you did. Yeah, she told me some things about you.”

“Care to share with me what she told y—”

“That you’ve been lying to me, Al.” Her forehead wrinkled. “That you’re – planning something behind my back. That you’ve been manipulating me, one way or another.”

Fearing the worst, I waited for more and prepared myself, but – that was all.

Alright.

Well.

Looks like Lucifer and I had come back at _exactly_ the right time.

“Ah,” I replied.

It was the wrong reply.

“‘Ah?’” She laughed a little, but her lips began to curve downwards quickly. “That’s all you have to say to that? ‘ _Ah’_? Not ‘that’s not true, Charlie’, or… ‘it’s all just a big misunderstanding, Charlie’, or even… even ‘I’ll tell you everything now, Charlie’…?”

I looked at her, my beautiful, troubled angel. She seemed frustrated and on the brink of tears, but not - _furious._ Not _yet_. It reminded me of the fact that it had been a while since the last time I had seen her outspokenly _angry._ It was a look that suited her well, I had to say, since it was such a _rare_ sight to behold. Charlie usually smiled, or had at least a neutral, yet still leaning-towards-the-positive emotion adorning her delicate face. Seeing her eyes burn in rage and watching her head sprout those demonic horns was an experience in and on its own, and I would lie if I’d say I wasn’t at least a bit curious about that forbidden, spiteful side of hers. It was pretty, it was raw, and I absolutely _hated_ seeing her like that.

It meant she was hurting.

“Charlie…” I started, but didn’t know how to continue, so I stopped right at the beginning.

I caught a glimpse of Husker in front of the car. He had found and repaired the little rearview mirror and was currently busy acting like he was turning on the engine, while I knew he was blatantly listening in on me and Charlie.

“You’re not going to tell me today, are you,” Charlie then muttered.

Tongue-tied, I could only stare at her.

She looked right back, narrowing her eyes. “It’s true, isn’t it? You’re going to try and stall for more time. You’re going to tell me I should have just a bit more patience and faith in you, and then you’ll spend the rest of the day preparing your next move, thinking of something to tell me that’s not exactly the truth, but not a compete lie, either. And then, when the promised day’s finally there, you’ll try to smooth-talk your way out of it again, or distract me with sex and kisses and you’ll be – b-be very _sweet_ and _loving_ to me in general, and you’re _straightforward_ about those things – I know you’re _genuine_ about those feelings, I know that you _love_ me, I _do_ , but… but who cares about all that, if you just _won’t tell me the truth_? Just – what are you up to? At the end of the day, you’ll have your way and I’ll still be left in the dark with this nagging voice in the back of my head, sneering and laughing at me, because see? _See_? You’ll never win him over, Charlie, you’ll never ever _totally_ win him over, no matter what you do, no matter how long you wait. You’re still an easy, gullible girl in his eyes and as long as he doesn’t want you to know certain things, you _won’t_ know these things, because he’s _still the one in_ _control_. The man behind the scenes. The chess master. The mysterious, allusive, untouchable Radio Demon.”

She was even more informed and perceptive than I thought. I had obviously underestimated her.

What a _foolish_ thing to do. Almost as foolish as letting her into my heart, but _not_ expecting her to actually take a good look around while she was in there anyway. I indeed had become far too careless.

Hearing that ghastly, ticking clock in the back of my head, I once more thought about what I could say to her. But I was overwhelmed by all that had transpired in the past few hours. My mind drew a blank and the _one_ thing I knew for sure was that lying to Charlie would only make matters _worse_. Whatever I was going to say to her now, it _had_ to be the truth, or I was going to lose her forever.

And that was the very last thing I wanted.

Not like _this_.

My heart’s muscles pulled in, locked up and launched an ice-cold shiver through me. The chill started in my chest and spread itself over the rest of my body at a rapid tempo. It seeped into me: realization. The dire situation I was in. Charlie’s grievances. My own vulnerability and mortality. 

Swallowing, I gripped Charlie’s hand firmer, meaning every single sound my voice made when I finally said: “Tomorr—”

“God, I _knew_ it.” Charlie heaved an angry huff and jerked her hand out of mine. “Tomorrow – of _course_ you’ll tell me tomorrow. And tomorrow, you’ll tell me you’re going to tell me the day _after_ tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow… right. Okay. I see how it is, Alastor.”

“No, I'm serious,” I emphasized, while Charlie turned herself away from me again. “I am, I – simply need to prepare myself a bit more.”

“Oh I’m _sure_.”

“Because it’s not _nothing_ , everything I’m going to tell you.”

“Hm-hm.”

“It’s a lot. A _whole_ lot.”

“Whatever.” 

“And for the record – I _was_ going to tell you today. I _was_. But – I had hoped – it would be in other circumstances. I had hoped you’d hear it from _me_ , first.”

“So had I, Al.”

A sob.

Absolutely _terror-stricken_ beyond my wildest dreams, I looked on as Charlie’s reflection in the window started to cry. It were both tears of sadness as it were resentful tears, as she whimpered in silence, yet at the same time roughly wiped the off the wet traces with her still not-unclenched hands, her eyes dark and hard. Since I simply wasn’t able to watch her cry like that _without_ automatically acting on it, I reached out to her, attempting to put a hand on her shoulder.

Charlie hissed and instantly smacked my hand away, not even looking over her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Charlie—”

“Don’t you _fucking_ touch me!”

I pulled back my hand, respectfully distanced myself from her and averted my eyes from her smaller, completely withdrawn, shaking body.

Husker’s yellow orbs found my own eyes, through the rearview mirror, but he didn’t say anything as he finally started the limousine’s engine. He only shook his head and ignored me for the rest of the ride home.

Sitting there in the vehicle, with a frozen smile on my face, a hurt princess next to me and a disappointed friend at the wheel, I couldn’t recall a situation in which I had felt more helpless, confused and downright _pathetic_.

But it would be worth it.

It would be worth it.

It would be worth it.

It _had_ to be worth it.

It _better_ be worth it.

  
**DdD**

**  
**Oh it was _so_ _fucking_ _worth_ _it_!

Yeah, sure, after everything that had happened last night, the main hall was one big fucking _wasteland_ of trash, snacks, empty bowls and maybe dead, maybe zoned-out sinners. And I _guess_ it also wasn’t very swiggety-swag and/or cash-money of us to raid Charlie’s wine cellar (did you know she had a fucking _wine_ _cellar_?! ‘Cause that bitch had a damn _wine_ _cellar_!), but of course we still totally _inhaled_ all that good, sexy booze till we all walked backwards and it was _good_. And okay, okay – _mayyyyyybe_ we didn’t _have_ to rapid-fire-vomit into every single nook and cranny of the hotel shortly after the drinking binge, like the smashed drunkards we sure appeared to be…

But _fuck that_ and _what the fuck ever_ – we had _fun_ and that’s all that matters _!_

Man, I never would’ve guessed that having a stupid Nineties Karaoke Night would be this much fun _without_ snorting so much coke that I couldn’t piss straight anymore – but that was _before_ I had seen Niffty shaking her tiny booty on ‘Wannabe’, _before_ I had broken at least _one_ rib laughing hysterically upon hearing Husk’s wayyyyy too _emotional_ version of ‘Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm’ (no, seriously, _that_ was the song’s title), _before_ I had gotten freaked-out goose bumps all over my friggin’ hot bod over Rob’s (pretty sure the depressed chicken dude was Rob) _haunting_ performance of ‘Losing My Religion’ and _before_ I had fucking fallen in love with Vaggie all over again during her extremely unconformable adaptation of the boyband-song ‘Tearin’ Up My Heart’.

‘Cause it was a fucking _LSD-trip_.

She opened up her pouty little potty-mouth and windows _splintered_. Tenants _begged_ others to mercy-kill them. A random dog/wolf demon began to howl and scratch his own face open. A girl almost tore her ears off. One dude threw himself from a just-shattered window (beats me why he did that, the main hall was at ground zero, so what _gives_ ) and methinks I had seen at least ten peeps getting a minor seizure over hearing Vaggie’s lethal singing voice. 

Vaggie couldn’t sing for _shit,_ see. She sounded like a fucking crow on steroids.

But oh my fucking _god_ if she didn’t she put her heart and soul into it!

I swear, watching her sing to her heart’s content on the stage last night, all dolled up and enthusiastic and looking like the most fuckable lady I had ever laid my countless eyes on – it was like somebody had struck me with a damn thunderbolt. To the face. And to the jumbled chaos that were my reproductive organs.

Yeah so we totally fucked again last night, _what of it?_

 _She_ wanted it.

 _I_ wanted it.

That made _two_ people who wanted it.

Now let Uncle Angel Dust tell you a little special something: you know what happens when (at least) two people who want it are put together?

They _fucking get laid, **ooooohhhhh**!_

So we just – stuck a cute lil’ pin in our sexualities for the time being and spent like 50% of the evening touching and groping each other in every sense of the word, before we went like “yeah let’s spend the remaining 50% to humping each other senseless lol” and I think only 10% was actually focused on _singing_ , which made 110% in total, and that was impossible, and shut the fuck up, I don’t care.

It was like 600 kinds of awesome and amazing, but the best part of it all still had to come – want to know what the _best_ part was?

The best part was what happened the next day, just a minute or so ago, when I was standing in the sad remains of what used to be the main hall and took in the destroyed paintings on the wall, wincing and sucking in my breath like “ _ooof_ ”. Then there was suddenly Vaggie’s small hand, sliding smoothly into mine.

“What a fucking mess,” she said, not looking at me.

“Yea,” I yelled, or at least it felt like I was yelling.

“Charlie’s going to be _so_ pissed,” she said again.

“Yea,” I screamed again.

Then she tugged on my hand, her face and other hand hidden deep into the sweater vest she had borrowed from me. “This thing stinks like you.”

“Jeez Louise, Vags, ya don’t _have_ to—”

“…I don’t mind.”

And that was the best part.

…

SO YEAH!

Long story short: I had the fucking time of my afterlife, and so did everybody else, and therefore, like I had said before, brutally ripping apart and shaking up the hotel and everything and everybody that was inside of it... it was all _worth it_ and I’d do it all over again!

Besides, we all _knew_ – that was just how fucking _public_ Alastor and Charlie were these days I guess – that the princess and her private Red Charlie Prodder would be too pooped out by all the sex they had last night to _really_ give a damn about the destruction her precious sinner squad had put the hotel through, so I wasn’t worried! I was too pooped out 'cause of all the sex as well, after all!

Also, Vaggie liked my smelly sweater!

Also also, I was as high as a kite!

And I didn’t even use anything!

Everything was fucking _wonderful_!

  
**HhH**

**  
**The princess didn’t say much when we, after one goddamn _harrowing_ ride back home, walked into the hotel and saw the disintegrated stuff that was supposed to be resembling her establishment’s main hall.

She just motionlessly stared at the rumble, the snoring sinners hugging empty or bottles of wine, the torn-off pieces of wall and the dirtied or broken furniture for a minute or two, maybe three, before she sighed in defeat, tied her hair into a pony tail and – began cleaning up the mess.

Don’t give me that look – I had _tried_ to prepare her for all the fucked-up wreckage, yeah? I had given explaining the situation she would find upon returning home a shot during the ride, but when she wouldn’t react to any of the snarky remarks I made about the state some rooms but mostly her main hall was in, I just gave up. Instead, I told her I still successfully saved some liquor for her, just in case she needed some. And god fucking _knows_ the lass needed some.

But she hadn’t responded to _that_ either, and here we were now, god fucking dammit, and my wheezy, leaky, shriveled-up heart _wept_ when I saw Charlie trying to push a fat guy off what used to be her too-good-for-this-sinful-place karaoke machine. It bawled even _harder_ when I noticed Al coming to her aid – and Charlie _abruptly_ turning on her heels and walking away from him, like he had a deadly disease or something.

Which he had.

The fucking bastard.

Angel and Vaggie, who had been uselessly loitering around the main hall just like pretty much every hungover sinner that was currently kind of awake here in the hotel, only _now_ spotted both Alastor and Charlie rummaging around the place. They wanted to say hi to them, but changed their minds when they noticed that Al and the princess weren’t talking to one another – and so they came to me instead, looking for answers.

Fucking yippee ki-yay.

I didn’t really feel like explaining all the things Alastor had done wrong to them – _fuck_ no, I’d be talking forever and probably not even _die_ afterwards, either – and so I decided to summarize everything in one easy-to-follow sentence.

“Alastor fucked up good.”

I’m a goddamn Shakespeare.

“No shit,” Vaggie said, playing it cool and casually retreating her hand from Angel’s. Like I fucking _cared_? Just look at my face and tell me – was this the senile face of a cat-thing that gave a damn she and Angel went to bone town again?

I’ll tell you.

No.

“Uh-huh, oh yea, he fucked up for sure. _Damn_ ,” Angel Dust – playing along – nodded, watching Charlie ignore Alastor so _blatantly_ it made the three of us cringe in almost-sympathy. “But, like, on a scale from one to ten, Husky boy, just _how_ _much_ did Smiles fuck up?”

“Twenty.”

“Ohh, twenty, shock and terror.” Angel rolled all of his eyes. “Look fuzzy face, I know you’re tryin’ to be dramatic and shit, but when I say ‘on a scale from one to ten’, you’re supposed to _really_ pick a number in between the one and the ten. Otherwise I’d have said ‘in a scale from one to fuckin’ infinity’ and call it a day, ya get it?”

“Fuck your scale,” I said.

He smirked. “Bitch I _might_.”

I grunted and was about to tell him I was way too ancient, sober and dead inside for his cheeky Angel-shtick this early in the afternoon, when Vaggie suddenly shushed us – by _pounding_ a fucking _elbow_ into our sides. Ignoring our ‘ _oof’_ s and insults, she aggressively gestured towards the main hall and in the direction of some sleepy sinners, currently being fucking obstructive pricks by just standing around, filling up space and not doing anything except for breathing (as per usual, really). Vaggie then clacked her tongue, rolled up her sleeves and put her hair into a messy bun.

“Alright – let’s get busy. Angel, you go tell those lousy jerks over there to get their shit together and help us out cleaning this mess up. Husk, you go to that karaoke device and try to fix it – you know how much Charlie loves that thing. I’ll go get some trash bags and join you in a bit. Okay?”

You know, if I had to do this for any other person than the Princess of Hell, I’d have snorted and laughed at Vaggie, _right_ in her perpetually frowning face. Like _hell_ I was going to allow her to command me around – I had gotten commanded around more than enough, even after my life was fucking _over_ already, when I got down here and was stupid enough to turn to Alastor and let him make me his stupid dumbass lackey. No fucking _way_ I was going to let me get ordered around by _anybody_ anymore.

But it _was_ for the Princess of Hell.

That sad-looking, blonde girl over there, wiping her strained face off to a piece of curtain rag.

So _think_ , Husk, you cranky old geezer: where did you put your tool box again?

  
**CcC**

**  
**It took me a while to buckle up and get myself out of my negative train of thoughts, and if I had to be honest, I actually didn’t even _feel_ like getting out of it. You might even say I _liked_ it, in a morbid kind of way – letting myself get swallowed up by these spiraling feelings of nothing but sorrow, spite and despair like this. Just because it was so _easy_ to do so – so much easier than fighting against it.

I don’t know. Maybe it was about time I stashed away my optimism and face the cold, bitter truth already: my parents were assholes. My lover was a liar. My tenants were jerks. My friends were useless. And my hotel – my pride and joy – was in _shambles_ after just _one_ unattended party night. 

Why would I try to get myself out of it, really?

Why even _bother_?

Why didn’t I just – _give_ _up_ on everything, go back to my parents’ place and hide underneath my covers for the rest of the century?

That at the very least didn’t hurt me.

Fortunately enough (or _unfortunately_ enough, depending from which angle you look at it) I _did_ manage to get out of my discouraged and heavyhearted stupor – and that was all thanks to the efforts of everybody around me.

At some moment in time, somebody – I wasn’t sure who it was, my vision was all fogged up and blurry – took me by the shoulders and carefully guided me to the side of the main hall. Up to that point, I had been _very_ engrossed in avoiding Alastor at all costs, so one can imagine my already low energy levels were at _rock_ _bottom_ when they finally succeeded in steering me away from the mess. I mean, I couldn’t even struggle against them. So I let them.

They put me on a chair, gave me a blanket, a warm cup of tea and an endeared pinch to the cheek, and _that_ was when I found out that none other than that sneaky jerk of an _Alastor_ had apparently managed to come close to me, despite of _everything_ , dammit. But just when I was about to snarl at him to just leave me the hell alone already and toss his teacup into his face, I looked up – and I saw how everybody was working hard to clean up the main hall.

Husk was on the podium of the main hall, tinkering with the karaoke device. The karaoke device didn’t look broken anymore and Niffty, all dressed up in her cute cleaning-lady-attire, was polishing the colorful buttons on it with a concentrated glimmer in her – eye. I could hear sounds coming out of the device and they sounded clear, so – so it seemed like the karaoke device had been repaired.

Angel Dust and some of the stronger sinners of the hotel (not sure why Angel Dust was with them, but oh well) were busy putting knocked over furniture back up and bringing the bags of junk and waste Vaggie and the rest of the sinners were fervently collecting outside. When she saw me looking her way, Vaggie paused from fishing wrappers out of puddles of alcohol and gave me a smile and a wave – and I found myself hesitantly raising a hand up as well.

And then there was Alastor, of course, who probably thought he needed to show off by fixing all the holes in the walls, restoring the torn walls and paintings, putting together the wrecked windows and mopping the floor, all at the same time – but it really wasn’t _that_ amazing. I mean, come on, the guy was an evil overlord and he had magical powers and tentacles – of _course_ he could do like a million things at the same time.

That didn’t impress me much, Al.

However…

…I also saw _Rosie_ running along with the sinners, fancy hat and clothes and all. Rosie didn’t live at the hotel (yet), so that meant Alastor had ask her for help at some point in time. I also recognized some lesser known overlords we had met last night, working hard to restore the main hall to its former glory. And Al was talking to _Bob_. You know. The emotionless guy who hated Alastor more than everything? Well he sure as heck didn’t seem to hate him _now_ , as he listened to Al’s instructions, fell down on his knees and began to brush the dirt from the tiles’ seams with only a toothbrush, his stern, unmoving face practically plastered to the floor.

I gripped my teacup a little.

With the help of everybody around, and _especially_ the help of the many overlords roaming around, I could literally _see_ the main hall recovering from last night’s festivities with the passing minute.

Meanwhile, I just sat there. Holding that teacup. I – I didn’t need to do or instruct anybody. They just… _did_ it. Out of their own accord. Even stronger put: every time I did as much as _try_ to offer my help, I was friendly, yet insistently pushed down back on my chair again and told to relax.

This was so strange to me. Seeing everybody work so hard for me – it was so unusual and bizarre, I couldn’t even become emotional over it.

It _did_ cheer me up, though, and by the time everybody was done cleaning and the main hall’s floor was sparkling like never before, I felt a lot better and had almost forgotten about all the events that had taken place earlier this day. 

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There once was a shepherd boy who liked to play pranks on others. For some curious reason, he thought it was very hilarious to repeatedly trick the villagers of his hometown into thinking that a dangerous wolf was attacking his flock of sheep. The boy would randomly start crying for help, and then, when the villagers came to his aid, they’d find – much to their dismay – that the little bastard had successfully fooled them, yet again.  
> Of course, this running gag was bound to grow old and go horribly wrong eventually, and one day, a hungry wolf really DOES appear near the shepherd’s sheep! Although the frightened boy desperately calls for help, nobody comes to help him this time. The people in town all think it’s yet another false alarm, so the sheep – and the lying shepherd boy – are all devoured by the wolf. Just like that.
> 
> An extremely old and rather well-known fable from Aesop. Like in many old, classical stories, there are different versions of this one – but interestingly enough, most versions have the boy, the sheep and the wolf as recurring themes (I guess everybody universally agrees that wolfs are bad news and shepherd boys are nasty little liars, no matter in what era they live). The moral at the end of this little story? Even if they (finally) tell the truth, no one will believe a known liar.


	27. The Princess and the Pea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had something worthwhile to tell you, but - I don't really have anything new to say!^^;;; One of the downsides of being inside all day long I guess: at a certain moment, all the days slowly begin to merge and look and _feel_ like the same thing.  
> That's why I'm happy I at least have my classes and this fanfiction to work on, it's one of the few things I still really enjoy doing these days. Well thank god for that! 8DDDD
> 
> In the last chapter, Charlie got it rough and gave Alastor a very harsh, cold shoulder. But Alastor wouldn't be Alastor if he didn't know how to charm his way back into her bedroom again...
> 
> Enjoy!^^

This day had been _so_ hustling and bustling, it was over before I even knew it. And yet, thanks to everything that had transpired today, it also felt like it hadn’t been just _one_ day, but – well, more like a _week_?

I mean, one moment, I was eagerly watching Alastor’s hot, glimmering body in the shower, and the next moment, during breakfast, I felt like my chest was getting... plucked apart. Then, the moment after _that_ , I couldn’t even _look_ at Alastor anymore without wanting to slap him in the face with a chair, and the moment _thereafter_ , I sat and witnessed him and everybody connected (and not connected) to the hotel make me feel special and wholesome, by patching up my hotel’s utterly abused main hall in the most heartwarming kind of way.

All in all, my rattled heart had gone through a pretty bumpy, turbulent roller-coaster-ride today – and I was sure it wasn’t over yet. I was _still_ on board of that ride, with _no idea_ how it would end or how to get off of it.

Seriously: what a day.

It had ended on a fairly upbeat note, for which I was very grateful, oh yes, I was. But – I had _enough_ of this day. I was _beat_ and I just wanted it to be _over_ already. That’s why I, soon after dinner with all of the sinners had ended, told Vaggie I was going to bed early.

Vaggie, having not finished her plate of macaroni yet, gave me an understanding look and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s probably for the best, hun. Why don’t you sleep in for a bit tomorrow? I don’t mind starting things up with An—all and utterly by myself.”

Tired or not, I was still _more_ than interested in what Vaggie had almost told me just now – and I raised an eyebrow at her. “By yourself, huh?”

“Yes.” Vaggie, who had always been kind of secretive about things she felt unsure of, timidly turned her head away from me and began stabbing a piece of pasta with her fork. “All by myself. Alone. Just me, myself and I. That is _exactly_ what I said.”

“Oh _really_? I’m _pretty_ sure I heard you say a certain na—”

“What about Alastor, Charlie?” Vaggie then ruthlessly cut through my words, her sole eye staring at me.

My grin faltered. I guess that’s what I deserved for teasing her too much. My eyes flicked up, warily looked around the dining hall – and noticed Al, sitting not too far away from me and Vaggie. Apparently, Alastor had finally taken my urgent request (to leave me the hell alone) to heart. By the looks of it, he was currently talking to Angel Dust about – well, _something_. He didn’t return my glances, but that was okay. In all fairness, I was _glad_ he didn’t. Things could get awkward.

“What _about_ him,” I muttered, looking away from him at last.

Vaggie furrowed her brows. “Sheesh, I don’t know _what_ happened between you two, but – tell me, have you broken up with him?”

“No.”

“Are you _planning_ to break up with him?”

“I’m – not sure. I _hope_ not.” I bit my lower lip. “I found out Al has been keeping secrets from me, Vag. Well, I already _knew_ he had some secrets, but this morning, mom said… uh, basically, she accidentally let me know that Alastor’s been lying to me about a _lot_ of things. That he’s been pulling all kinds of strings behind my back and that he has… manipulated me. She didn’t get into details, but… yeah.”

Vaggie listened to me and nodded. “Hm-hm. Alright, and what did Alastor have to say for himself? Did he come with an explanation?”

I shrugged. “He said he’d tell me tomorrow. I wonder if he _will_ , though… I – I fear he’s leading me on. He was supposed to tell me all about his secrets _today_ , but then he found out mom already told me something I wasn’t supposed to know (yet), and he kind of… short-circuited, I guess.”

“Huh,” Vaggie said.

“What a jerk.” I fidgeted with a lock of hair. “Right?”

Vaggie was quiet for a little while, before she sighed, sitting back and folding her arms together. “Never thought I’d say this, and _please_ don’t _ever_ tell that tall, psycho beanpole I said this, but I kind of get Alastor?”

“You _do_?”

“Yeah, he—”

“ _You_ , of all people?”

“Are you done?” My friend made a slightly irritated, huffy face. “Yeah – _me,_ of all people. _Ooh_. Look, hear me out, Charlie – Alastor kind of reminds me of a huge, skittish _asshole cat._ When you wanted to approach this asshole cat earlier today, you somehow spooked him – and so, the asshole cat ran the fuck away. He’s sure to return to you later, because you are like, his _owner_ – you feed him and everything… but in _that_ particular moment, you ruined it. So now, you need to wait until there’s another moment in which you can carefully approach the asshole cat again. Get what I mean?”

“I can’t believe you're calling Alastor an asshole cat,” I said.

“I can’t believe I'm calling you his owner, too,” Vaggie pointed out.

I let out a snort. “Well, I mean… I _did_ kind of… reserve his heart and stuff.”

“Oh god, _spare_ me the mushy metaphors – and stop waving that dumbass bookmarker around, before I fucking throw up.” Vaggie grinned nevertheless. “Anyways – let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. Say that he really _did_ wanted to fess up today, but got discouraged after finding out you already knew some things – and probably _weren’t_ reacting _too_ _well_ on that knowledge, too. That made him freak out and he then stupidly decided to stall the moment of truth for a day. Having to wait for another day is fucking _annoying_ , no doubt about it, but still: it’s not _that_ much to ask of you, I think. That’s just _my_ opinion, however.”

I rubbed my arm. “Vaggie, please understand that… this has been on my mind for a _long_ time already. And Alastor _knew_ this has been on my mind for a long time. I’ve been patient, I’ve been waiting and I’ve been kindly reminding him that he really can trust me, time after time, without pushing or blackmailing him into doing anything. Believe me, I _have tried_ , so _much,_ but – I don’t know, when I realized he wasn’t going to tell me today either, even after he had _promised_ me he’d tell me today… it was… I feel like he’s playing around with me. Like he’s taking me for granted.”

“He’s _not_ taking you for granted.” Vaggie stated right away. “Do you have any idea how fucking lost and forlorn he looked today? He might have been putting up quite a show with his boisterous laughing, his arrogant jabbering and his… weird mop-juggling-show this afternoon, but you should have seen the look on his _face_ when he stared at you, probably thinking that nobody paid attention to him anyway. He’s _terrified_ , Charlie – terrified he might lose you.”

“I didn’t see that,” I mumbled.

“Of _course_ not, hun, you were busy _ignoring_ the dirty jackass.” She smiled a little. “Believe me, Charlie: you’re all that’s on his miniscule mind right now.”

Thinking her words over, my eyes again wandered over to where Al was sitting – just in time to see him (abruptly) look the other way and hear him (loudly) proclaim, out of _nowhere_ , that Angel Dust was an unforgivable pervert.

“The _fuck_ ,” was Angel’s response. “I only _yawned_ , ya _dick_!”

Al laughed brashly. “Ha! Absolutely nobody yawns with their tongue hanging out like a piece of rotten, dead flesh, my dear, foul fellow!”

“ _I_ do!”

“Why that’s what I said: absolutely _nobody_!”

“Why did I have to sit here,” Husk deadpanned, sitting in-between Alastor and Angel Dust with a lifeless expression on his face. "I could've sat everywhere, even on the side with the _nice_ plates and napkins, but no, nope, I just _had_ to sit with the Fuck-Up Squad. Fuckin' kill me."

“You – think I should wait for tomorrow, then?” I asked Vaggie, the both of us looking on as Al and Angel Dust’s argument kept going.

She nodded. “Grant him that last chance. You’re right to be pissed at him for stalling and giving you the feeling he’s making a fool out of you, but at _least_ allow him to prove the opposite.”

“One last chance.” My head snapped back at Vaggie, giving my friend a scare. “I hear you, Vag, and I’m willing to put up with it for one more day – but if he doesn’t come clean to me tomorrow and weasels himself out of it again, it’s _over_.”

“Alright, alright…” Vaggie gave me a concerned look. “Are you – feeling okay, Charlie?”

“Not really.”

“I can tell. You’re _mad_. The frustration over this lingering situation… it’s really bothering you, isn’t it?” Vaggie’s eye grew bigger. “Are you…”

“ _No_! No. I’m – not like _that_.” I brushed some locks of hair out of my face and hastily stood up, almost tipping over a glass in the panicky process. “Don’t worry. It’s not like that. It’s _not_. I – I’m just tired. I’m going to bed now. Good night.”

Instead of waiting for Vaggie’s reply to that, I rapidly walked away from the table. I tried to be quick and quiet, as quick and quiet as possible, but it still wasn’t quick and quiet enough, because I could easily hear Vaggie, calling out to Alastor in the packed room:

“Hey, Radio Douchebag! The princess is going to bed now! Do with that information whatever you want. And _stop trying to stab Angel with that toothpick_! People are still eating here, for fuck’s sake.”

“ _Oh_!” Angel clacked his tongue, offended. “Well alright then, _mamasita_ , keep it up like that and _I_ won’t be eating _anything_ tonight, _that’s_ for sure!”

While several inhabitants of the hotel cracked up at the bold remark and the air in the room swelled up with thunderous laughter (and the steam that had begun swirling out of Vaggie’s red ears), I just groaned softly in annoyance, and made myself scarce.

  
**CcC**

**  
**After I had dragged myself over to my bedroom, I had about enough time to dump my clothes into the laundry basket, put on a pair of comfortable pajamas and brush some stubborn tangles out of my bulky bush of hair, before I heard Alastor knock on my room’s door.

I mean, it _had_ to be him, right – who else could it possibly be?

And yes, upon opening the door, Alastor came into sight in front of me. Although he, at first glance, didn’t appear to be openly nervous or anxious to be here, he couldn’t trick me: I saw thought his act _instantly_. Come on, the subtle fact he kept frantically playing around with his microphone stand _immediately_ gave his discomfort away, and if _that_ hadn’t done the trick, then that really big, unconvincing smile on his face _certainly_ did.

His awkward self-consciousness became painfully visible to me right then as he stood there, fidgeting – and it was safe to say that in the end, it was that little bit of disarming, humane uncertainty that made me withhold the urge to slam my door shut. Because otherwise, I’d…

…oh what the hell was I saying – stop acting so tough, Charlie, you know you had been secretly _hoping_ he’d show up, _shamelessly_ hoping he would, even, in spite of your anger, and that _wasn’t_ just so you’d be able to whack the door into his smug face.

Your weak heart had always been biased, after all. 

“Hello,” Alastor started.

“Hi,” I said, sticking my chin out defiantly.

A minute passed, in which Alastor looked at me and I looked at him in return, with neither one of us saying anything at all. I could hear his invincible radio audience excitedly chowing down on some crispy snacks though – it sounded like they were having the time of their lives _,_ watching us being weird around one another.

“I was wondering about something,” Alastor finally stated, his raised voice drowning out the noises his smacking audience members made.

“Join the club,” I darkly said.

He ignored that comment and cleared his throat. “Pray tell, my dear, should I spend the night in my own bedroom tonight?”

I stared at him. “You’re asking _me_?”

“Yes?”

“Why? Can’t you figure out _yourself_ what you should do in this situation?”

“Ah! Well. That is a good question! A very good question indeed,” he said, nodding. “You see, Charlie, I have never been in a… lovers’ quarrel before. Since you are the only lover I ever had. And you – well. You obviously know this already. Why am I telling you this? This has been established many times already now. And I’m _still_ talking about it. I should stop talking now.”

“No, go on,” I encouraged him, suppressing a smile and _hating_ that he actually managed to endear me with his stupid, clumsy bumbling.

And he did go on. “I’ve always solved every argument or feud I ever had with others in rather… _resolute_ ways, so to speak. Or, in some cases, by simply – and quite literally – walking away from them. But I’m aware I can’t do either of these options in _this_ specific argument, since it involves _you_. And as you know, I’m – deeply in love with you. So…”

My heart throbbed, but I kept a straight face. “So?”

He gave me a fixed look. “So what should I do, Charlie? It’s not my intention to sleep all by myself tonight. However, I know it’s wishful thinking to believe you’d willingly let me into your room and spend the night with you, after all that has been said and done today. You’re mad at me – _rightfully_ so – and I’m prepared to leave you alone, if that’s what you want. Please tell me.”

I – I couldn’t think when he talked like that. Rubbing my slowly reddening cheeks, those damn _traitors_ , I let out a troubled sigh.

“Al…”

“Also – and excuse me for interrupting you – whether you’ll tell me to get lost or come in, _do_ know that I’m already eternally grateful you at least don’t mind looking me in the eyes anymore.”

He smiled warmly at me.

“That’s reassuring.”

It…

It was one of _those_ smiles. You know the ones. Those charming, heartfelt, secret ones, those which made me feel weak in the knees, high in the head and soft in the chest.

God _damn_ _it_.

I quickly lowered my face and, from the corners of my eyes, noticed him moving closer to me, the bastard – he _knew_ he had won, dammit, he _knew_ it. I kept my arms locked together in a convulsive grip, even when Al got close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating from his body. It was child’s play for him to take hold of me now – to just… pull me into his embrace and overpower me completely.

But he didn’t.

“Charlie,” he softly asked me, his hopeful, yet calm voice resonating somewhere above my bowed head, but not all _that_ far above it, “will you let me in, sweetheart?”

My breath escaped my mouth in shaky, unsteady puffs, but he just _stood_ there, not lifting a single finger to touch me.

Alastor was _exceptionally_ careful to not overstep his bounds, I realized. If something was going to happen, _I_ ’d have to be the one to initiate it. _I_ ’d have to make the decision. _I_ ’d have to give him the green light. Even while knowing very well that he could easily take over control over this entire plight within the blink on an eye, and knowing I’d _let_ him, he didn’t – and he patiently let me continue to direct this situation instead.

I appreciated that.

 _God_ I appreciated that.

I let him in.

  
**CcC**

**  
**“I noticed you… invited some friends over this afternoon.”

Alastor, who had taken off his monocle and was about to put it on the nightstand next to the bed, glanced briefly at me after he heard me – quasi-casually – make this remark. I was lying down in bed and watched him expectantly as he finished up his usual evening rituals. He eventually turned off the light, settling down.

“To – help clean up the mess, I mean,” I clarified, clutching the covers. “It happened to catch my attention.”

Alastor folded his hands together on top of the bedsheets, before turning his head to look at me. “That’s correct. The main hall was in _such_ a horrendous state – I figured it would be best to persuade more people from outside of the hotel to come on over and help us out with… well, the restoration of your beloved manor.”

“It helped,” I admitted. “While everybody was working hard anyway (thank god), I’m pretty sure things wouldn’t have gotten fixed this quickly if you hadn’t… called on more acquaintances.”

“Perhaps,” Al said, shrugging.

“Thank you.” I studied the fabric of the fluffy cover on top of me. “Even _if_ you only did it in order to - kind of - make up for all that happened today. Or all that _didn’t_ happen today, better said.”

“Ah. Yes, I suppose my intentions were rather… transparent, weren’t they?” He chuckled a little. “That, or you simply know me too well.”

“I _do_ know you pretty well,” I said.

“ _That_ you do.”

There was a moment of silence between us. It wasn’t as unbearable as the many other loaded pauses that had occurred today, yet it also wasn’t a very comfortable kind of quietness. It was one filled with burdensome questions and unspoken answers, after all, and I grew tired of it very fast.

“Okay,” I said at last, sighing and turning my body so that I could decently face him. “Listen, Al – I’m glad you helped me out today, even though I was busy _vigorously_ evading and disliking you for most of the afternoon. I’m also happy you left it up to me to decide what to do with you, in terms of… sleeping arrangements and such. If you hadn’t done anything like that, I think you wouldn’t be lying next to me right now.”

Alastor nodded in agreement, but didn’t immediately verbally reply to that remark. Instead of that, he seemed to brood over some unspoken things for a little while. As he did so, I noticed the corner of his eye twitch, even in this darkness, and Al grimaced, covering his scarred hand with the other one. It probably stung.

“Are you still angry with me?” I heard him speak up, right when I was about to ask him about his wound.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Well – maybe not _angry_ -angry. More like… confused-angry.”

“Well. At least that’s better than disappointed-angry.”

“Oh god, _nothing’s_ worse than disappointed-angry.”

He nodded. “Can’t agree more with you on that matter. I once gravely disappointed my mother by neglecting to tell her I had a meeting after work and would therefore return home much later than I normally did. You should have seen the look on her face when I finally came back. Oh ho! It was the worst day of my life.”

I smiled. “The _worst_ , Al?”

He understood what I meant and flashed a grin at me. “Alright – _second_ to worst day of my life.”

I sniggered weakly. “You’re right though. Parents will never let you live it down, once you’ve disappointed them once.”

“It’s true.”

“Yeah.”

“I will tell you everything tomorrow, Charlie,” Alastor then said, coming out of left field.

Taken by surprise and not knowing what to say to that, I shut up and pursed my lips together, staring at him.

“I will,” he emphasized. “Trust me.”

“Sure,” I murmured, without much conviction, and rolled myself over the other side - away from him. “If you say so.”

I heard him heave a sigh. “I know I’m asking much of you, my love – believe me, I know I am. I also understand that you’re already being _far_ kinder to me than I deserve. Goodness, if I had been the one in your shoes, I’m fairly sure I wouldn’t even allow you to be in the same _neighborhood_ as me!”

“I’m not like you, Al.” I put my hands underneath my pillow and tried to close my eyes. “I’m weak.”

“Weak? _You_?” Alastor barked out a hard laugh. “What nonsense! My dear, if you truly were as weak as you seem to think you are, you wouldn’t have established this hotel! You wouldn’t have moved out of the palace and start living on your own! And you _certainly_ wouldn’t have had all those overlords, demons and sinners come over to help you out!”

“What do you mean?”

From the ruffling sheets, I could hear Al scooting much closer to me. “Charlie, do you believe all those wacky creatures we met last night would have hopped over to the hotel if they thought you were nothing but a weak little princess? You left an _impression_ on those people, darling – and a _good_ one, too! Not only on Rosie or your three Arch Uncles – yes, I’m calling them that from now on – but also on all those party guests that happened to watch us last night!”

Since I couldn’t keep my eyes shut, I blinked a little. “T-that’s just because they believed _you_. What _you_ told them about me.”

“Oh that played a part in it, I’m sure – but you were _there_ , weren’t you? They could see firsthand, with their own eyes, whether or not I was right about you.” He approached me even more, I sensed. “And since they came here today, to clean up rubble for _you_ , I _was_. So please stop saying such silly things about yourself, Charlie. It’s entertaining to hear, but it’s simply not true.”

“…why…”

“Hm?”

“Why – why do you always make things sound so – _logical_?” I laughed softly. “Whenever you say something like this, I almost always find myself thinking ‘well that actually makes sense’, and I just don’t know _how_ you manage to do that, I have _no_ idea.”

Alastor was now _right_ behind me, his close proximity becoming more than a little obvious to me – but I also felt his hesitation, the way his hand, I assumed, wavered above me.

Still, he gloated: “I told you before, Charlie – I have a way with words.”

“You do,” I smiled.

“And I daresay _you_ have a way with percieving my very presen—”

Alastor momentarily stopped talking when I reach a hand behind me, grabbed his faltering wrist and pulled him against me in one swift movement. I felt his pointy chest and lanky legs colliding against my back and calves, and he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around me, dotting the back of my neck with countless grateful kisses. The way he promptly forgot what he was talking about and instead focused on desperately intertwining our arms and legs together, peppering my skin with soft, moist touches of his lips… it said more than enough about his immense relief.

“Thank you,” he still said, however.

“Don’t mention it,” I mumbled. “I mean… y-you did it. _Again_. You made me feel – better about myself, without trying to comfort me or sugarcoat anything. I like that. So… y-yeah. This is your reward, I guess.”

“It’s a _lovely_ reward.”

“I’ll… I’ll give you another chance, too. However, this is the _last_ chance I’m giving you.” I inhaled, pondering over my words as I felt his hands grip and hold me. “Don’t make me regret it. _Please_.”

He squeezed me tightly. “I won’t.”

“I’ve been hurt enough, Al.”

“I know.”

“I don’t need another depressing footnote in my life.”

“Please don’t worry about that, my love: I’m at least one _blast_ of a chapter anyway.”

That made me chuckle, louder than I thought I would, which made Alastor snicker as well. Finally, the strange air around us appeared to become lighter and more familiar, and almost as if on cue, I relaxed myself. Alastor seemed to feel the change in my formerly wound-up body and moved a hand to my face, gently putting it against my chin and tilting it his way. My giggling slowly came to a halt when my eyes saw his and I waited, holding in my breath.

“May I?” he muttered.

“Y-yeah,” I panted.

My eyelids grew heavy when his lips found mine and quietly overwhelmed the last, remaining piece of doubt still standing up inside of my head. His touch was safe and intimate and his mouth hot and careful, as he deepened the kiss and made me moan and give in to him in an instant.

It was all I needed right now and I was more than delighted to swallow every passionate bit of it whole. 

  
**AaA  
  
**

My poor, darling Charlie. She had been so mentally exhausted and drained after this obnoxious day, it was no wonder she drifted off as soon as I backed away from her mouth. Content to see her dozing off rather peacefully, I planted another kiss on her cheek and secured her smaller frame against my own some more, embracing her as good as I could in this position. Charlie made a final, adorable mumbling sound and then she nodded off at last.

Usually, holding her in my arms, feeling her warmth and knowing she was here with me was enough for me to go to sleep as well. Oh, I’d wake up a couple of times later that night anyway – I _still_ woke up five to six times per night, sadly enough – but I’d be able to at the very least fall asleep again fairly easily, as long as she was nearby. After all, Charlie couldn’t _cure_ me from my insomnia, but she _did_ make it more bearable.

This night, however, I didn’t fall asleep that swimmingly.

I was _thinking_.

Charlie had given me an ultimatum: I needed to tell her everything tomorrow, or _else_. She hadn’t directly elaborated on what she was planning to do if I _still_ refused telling her, but I was certain it was something _so_ unthinkable somber that I’d regret keeping quiet about my secrets for the rest of my remaining life.

Silently, I paused my roaming thoughts to nuzzle my face into the top of her blonde hair, inhaling the soothing scent of fresh, clean cotton she gave off. Such a pleasant, excellent smell. So simple, yet so sophisticated. So ordinary, yet so outstanding. Charlie’s entire being was soaked with the fragrance of neatly-made beds and serene comfort.

_Everything is going to be okay._

_That_ was her scent.

I didn’t want to lose that scent.

I absentmindedly caressed the curves of her back and the softness of her stomach, my eyes still half-open as I thought about my next move.

She had looked so broken today – so hurt, frustrated and fed up with everybody and everything. Telling her about my plans and schemes would hit her hard, perhaps break her even _more_ , but Charlie was a strong woman. She could take it. I only had to explain it to her in a way that she’d understand, that she’d know my intentions behind it were _good_. Would she be mad at me? Yes, she would – but she would appreciate my honesty and she’d forgive me, and there would still be a chance. Whether she was aware of it or not.

With that promising thought in the back of my mind, I, at last, felt my eyelids slowly closing themselves fully, and I slipped into a delightful kind of numbness as sleep took over my senses.

  
**AaA**   
  


I woke up… oh, well, about six times that night again, and after opening my eyes for that sixth regrettable time, I no longer felt like sleeping. Or like _trying_ to sleep, that is. It was such a boorish activity, truth be told… I’d rather do practically _anything_ else but sleeping, especially when it was a night like _this_ one – an unending night in which I just couldn’t find enough peace of mind to stay asleep.

Drowsily, I sat up a bit and glanced down. Much to my amusement, I noticed that Charlie had somehow managed to look even more charming and attractive than she already did on a regular basis, with all of that golden hair of hers sticking out of her head, her mouth slightly opened and drooling _just_ a little, and her thin hands firmly clutching the front of my pajama vest. Almost as if she was afraid I’d sneak away if she didn’t hold me like that.

It was a silly thought – _such_ a silly thought! As if I’d even _want_ to! Ha!

I smiled and laid back down, observing Charlie’s sleeping face, now turned towards me. My fingers landed on her face and experimentally moved over her soft skin and chin. I was unable to keep myself from leaning in, closing my eyes again and chastely kissing her sweet mouth. One time. Two times. Three times. _Goodness,_ I loved her – how much I loved her, this beautiful, caring, unique little creature.

My hands slid down to her shoulders, over her arms, until they came in contact with Charlie’s own hands. I delicately tweaked her stubborn fingers until they let go of my vest and bundled them together with mine. My forefinger brushed against the cord, safely wrapped around Charlie’s right hand’s ring finger, and I stopped engulfing her lips with kisses, my eyes snapping open again. I couldn’t see much in this nightly darkness, yet I felt the bookmarker perfectly fine. It was right there – Charlie’s promise. Her – _reservation_.

Technically, she never officially proposed to me.

Oh yes, I knew what she had meant when she had looped that cute cord around my finger, a few months ago. It wasn’t needed for her to say more to me than she had already suggested, and perhaps her proposal being offered to me this vaguely was because she had wanted to give me time to think it over, to avoid... catching me off guard, possibly. Charlie had always been careful around me – so adorably, _painstakingly_ careful, she didn’t even have the heart to simply outright _ask_ me to marry her. Because who knows how I and my easily startled mental state of mind would react, right?

Right.

Well.

Perhaps the time had come for me to repay her for all her patience and kindness, by being the one to formally ask _her_ , instead. Just like I had asked her malicious father for her hand in marriage.

Charlie would like that.

It was settled then: I was going to propose to her today. I wasn’t sure yet if I’d pop the question before or after I had told her all about my plans (I wasn’t sure what would… give me the best results, in all honesty), but it _was_ going to happen, and it would happen _today_. Not only in order to prove to her that I had made up my mind, but also to prove to _myself_ that it was sufficient to trust the love Charlie harbored for me – to believe that her feelings for me were deep enough to – forgive me. For everything. And more.

I needed to make some preparations then… and why not make them _now_?

Succeeding such a restless night, I didn’t feel like sleeping anymore anyway – and there was no way I was going to spend the next few hours _waiting_ for the nighttime to be over already. I’d get _bored_. Even the mere thought I could possibly _bore_ myself was enough to make me cringe and loathe in response. No, I had to undertake some _action_ and use this spare time to draw up a wedding proposal my angelic princess _deserved_.

Smiling and nodding to myself, I began to untie the cord on Charlie’s finger. Naturally, I was going to use the same bookmarker to ask her. It _had_ to be the bookmarker – the stringy thing was too meaningful for the two of us, too important, and I believed it was impossible to find something else that would have a more satisfactory effect than the bookmarker. Also, by using the bookmarker, I wouldn’t handwave Charlie's own almost-proposal away. She’d appreciate that.

It – was _quite_ the struggle to get the cord off Charlie’s finger, I had to say (had she ever even _untied_ it?), but ultimately, it came off. Grasping the bookmarker in my hand, I shoved myself away from Charlie, just a little at first. Then I moved further away from her. Charlie was still sound asleep, but she unconsciously reached out to me nevertheless as I kept increasing my distance from her, until her seeking hands gave up and plopped down on the sheets.

After making sure Charlie was still slumbering, I got out of bed and concluded – judging by the weak rays of sunshine drippling into Charlie’s bedroom – that it was early in the morning. Four, maybe five o’clock? Ah, well. It didn’t matter: I had heard Vaggie say Charlie was allowed to sleep in today, so she’d sleep for a _much_ longer time. _Especially_ after a day like yesterday. The girl needed her energy.

All would be good; I’d be back before she’d realize I had been gone in the first place.

I affectionately patted Charlie’s snoozing bed head, put on my housecoat and made sure to make no sound as I left the blackness of the bedroom.

After all, there was only _one_ location that would inspire me to make the _best_ possible preparations for the _best_ possible wedding proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a land far, far away, there once lived a prince who desperately wanted to find a suitable princess to marry. But no matter how much he searches and how many princesses he meets, there’s always something wrong with them: they have bad table manners, they talk too loudly or they simply aren’t his type. The picky Prince, who only wants to marry a REAL princess, reasons that all those girls, with all their shortcomings, can’t be _actual_ princesses. So, he keeps looking for The Right One.  
> One day, during a stormy night, a young woman drenched with rain seeks shelter in the Prince’s castle. She claims to be a princess, but both the Prince and well as his mother, the Queen, aren’t sure about that. Every soaked girl can come knock on their door and make such a bold statement, after all. So the Queen has an idea: she tells the alleged princess to stay over for the night and (secretly) places a single pea in the guest’s bed, covered by an insane amount of mattresses and feather-beds. Somehow not weirded out by having to sleep on a bed like that, the girl goes to sleep.  
> The next morning, the guest tells the Prince and Queen that she had had a horrible, sleepless night, and she says she’s sure there was something hard in the bed that hurt her. Her back is indeed heavily bruised, and this is the unmistakable proof that the girl indeed is a Princess. Only a _true_ princess would be sensitive enough to feel the pea through so many layers of bedding, the Queen says, and the satisfied Prince and (probably very confused) Princess marry. 
> 
> A fairy tale collected by Hans Christian Andersen. Andersen claimed he had once heard somebody tell him the story about a girl needing to sleep on a huge amount of bedding in order to proof she was a princess, but it’s also possible he based it on other, similar tales with this theme. In any case, it wasn’t a very popular fairy tale: most critics found the story (and other fairy tales in the book that had this story) too ‘chatty’, ‘casual’ and ‘immoral’.


	28. Rumpelstiltskin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Last week, _'The Library, or The Discovery of Heaven'_ managed to get 40k views! 8DDDDDDDDD**  
> Whoa, that's - an _enormous_ amount of readers that have given my story a chance!^^ It makes me so happy to see people are (still!) liking and reading the very first fic I wrote on this site, even if it already has been more than a year since I uploaded that first chapter! <3  
> I thank all of you from the bottom of my heart, dear readers. It means a lot to me to see people are enjoying the things I've created!^^
> 
> Now! Moving right along - about this chapter!
> 
> Yeah.  
> Yyyyeah...
> 
> You know what? Just read it.

Ah, the library!

Or the place where I discovered Heaven, as I’d like to refer to this specific room.

Walking around in this nowadays frequently visited chamber on the fourth floor would no doubt bring back some good and tender memories I could use for creating a wonderfully romantic wedding proposal, or so I mused, after entering the library and gently closing the door behind me. I looked around the enormous room and let my eyes rest on the antique bookcases, the abundance of books in all colors, sorts and sizes, the soft sofas, quirky couches, the single, large, apple-themed stained glass and the oh so very well-used chaise longue.

There were two books lying on the chaise longue’s seating. On the advice of my sweet Charlie, I was currently reading the _ridiculously_ depressing novel ‘ _P.S. I Love You’_ (ha ha ha, oh _Charlie_ , how predictably _schmaltzy_ your taste in books is!), while Charlie was reading ‘ _Sense and Sensibility_ ’ at the moment, an old classic. The books were neatly stacked on top of one another, patiently waiting for their readers to return to them. For now, I simply passed them by. We’d be sitting there this afternoon again, though. Hopefully.

Folding my hands on my back, I sighed and began wandering around the chamber. Charlie and I still visited the library nearly every day around break time, to read and relax, but the place hit – _different,_ now that I was here all on my own. All kinds of flashbacks washed over me, hurriedly stumbled and spilled over one another in their amusing hurry to inform me about all that had taken place in this special area.

Such as the first time I had followed Charlie into this room. I recalled how my usually numb ticker had _jumped_ _up_ in delight upon discovering the princess’ beautifully sleeping figure on the couch. How she had looked at me when she woke up and noticed me sitting next to her: cautious of me, first and foremost, but also endearingly curious about my motives.

I remembered I had tried to intimidate her in the beginning, threatening to tell every single sinner in the hotel about her library. We both knew her ‘dear’, sinful subjects would _ruin_ the works and stories rustling in-between the barely opened pages of the many books catching dust in here, that much was certain. My words were supposed to be a clear warning to Charlie: don’t _ever_ ignore, avoid or bore me, or _this_ is what might happen… but instead of getting scared, getting angry with me or bursting into tears, Charlie had readily suggested I should simply become part of her secret library as well, if I liked to have control over it so much.

She didn’t mind my shenanigans. She didn’t mind _anything_ I did. She didn’t mind me bragging about all the books I had read, she didn’t mind trying out the books I recommended to her, she didn’t mind me squeezing her hand all the time and she didn’t mind me falling for her. Heavens, she didn’t even mind that I _did_ mind falling for her!

Another memory invaded my thoughts: that short, odd, _lonely_ period of time in which Charlie had refused to go to the library altogether, since I had scratched her face and told her she’d never get me redeemed, no matter _what_ she’d try. Looking back, it – basically had been a _very_ bizarre, _anguished_ declaration of love, but neither one of us had recognized it as such back then.

(Husker had, though.)

There also was the embarrassing remembrance of me, waking up on the chaise longue – and scrambling off Charlie’s panting, blushing body underneath me. Me, fleeing from her in blind panic, resulting in me bumping into a bookcase and getting hit on the head by a downpour of books.

And then even _more_ memories started popping up.

The memory of Charlie, stammering she loved me after I had assaulted her irresistible mouth with touch-starved lips.

The memory of me, excitedly watching other sinners roam around freely in this room, opening books and giving undiscovered tales a try.

The memory of us, the two of us, sitting here, holding hands and enjoying each other’s company, reading. Just… _reading_. Nothing more, nothing less.

This old library, this mysterious, secluded, isolated bit of the hotel, hidden in obscurity on a scarcely visited floor… it had meant so much for the two of us. More than I could ever put down in words, most likely, but that didn’t matter! I was willing to give it a try nevertheless. It was for Charlie, after all – and for her, I’d do practically everything.

Pulling out the red cord I had kept safe and sound in my housecoat’s pocket, for extra inspiration, I returned to the chaise longue and sat down. With a sharp snap in my fingers, a notebook and a fountain pen appeared, and I thought long and hard about how to even _begin_ this soon-to-be-written message. It had to be _good_ , but… I was a _talker_ , _not_ a writer.

Hm.

This might take some time after all.

  
**AaA**

  
Perhaps I had underestimated this whole ‘writing a masterpiece of a wedding proposal’ a bit, because by the time I finally felt satisfied enough with my notes and looked up from the heap of crumbled up paper chucks surrounding me, the old clock hanging on one of the library’s walls kindly informed me that it was past 9 o’clock already.

…good golly.

I had spent nearly _four_ _hours_ on writing something that was supposed to be a fairly easy task to do. Four entire hours – my oh my, I hadn’t seen _that_ one coming, ha ha!

Well, thank Lucifer’s old man and all of Charlie’s unconventionally flaky uncles that my darling was allowed to sleep in today: I doubt she’d be very _pleased_ , waking up and seeing both me and her beloved bookmark missing, first thing in the morning. Especially after a day as turbulent as yesterday was, and after she had very clearly told me she wouldn’t give me another chance to explain myself to her. Just _think_ what an _awful_ situation I would have gotten myself into, hadn’t Charlie been granted the luxury to snooze for a while longer! Ho ho – I surely dodged a bullet there!

But no, I knew everything was perfectly fine. I even had some extra time to spare, judging from that clock: Charlie never got out of bed before 10 o’clock, when she was allowed to sleep in. If I returned to her bedroom now and got myself dressed, I’d even still be able to carefully prepare myself a bit for all the questions Charlie would no doubt have in store for me, once she’d woken up.

 _Very_ pleased with how everything seemed to work out in my advantage, I put away my notebook and pen, quickly dismissed all of the rejected scraps of paper in the trash bin and got up from the long couch, dusting myself off.

Right – time to reunite myself with Charlie!

  
**AaA**

  
Unfortunately enough, reuniting myself with Charlie had to wait for a while longer, or so I found out upon reentering the bedroom, because Charlie seemed to have disappeared.

…

What?

Dumbfounded, I stared at the tidily made up bed and the pure and utter lack of adorably sleeping princess lying in-between the sheets – and I did this for a _much_ longer, _much_ more agonizing time than probably was needed. Then, eventually, I decided to, well… _get dressed_ already, since that seemed to be the most understandable thing to do at the moment.

As I changed my clothes, my puzzled mind still tried to wrap itself around the current situation.

I – didn’t understand?

Certainly, it was Monday, normally a workday like every other day, but – why on earth would Charlie already be out of bed _now_? She never let an opportunity to linger around in bed longer go to waste, absolutely _never_ , so why…

Hm. I suppose it was possible some sort of emergency had happened. Charlie was the manager of the hotel, so she’d be needed or at least expected to appear and help fix things in that case. Then again, if there really _was_ something of an emergency going on, I’d most likely have heard and seen more about it – some crying sinners or a screeching fire alarm alerting the rest of the inhabitants of the hotel, for example… but the hotel’s corridors and altogether ambiance had seemed to be perfectly ordinary when I had made my way back to the bedroom through the hallways. _Peaceful,_ even.

Another possibility was that Charlie had simply gotten the munchies all of a sudden, and therefore rolled out of the bed earlier. Now don’t get me wrong, Charlie had always been a pretty grateful and enthusiastic eater – but lately, her need for food (and _especially_ sweet food) seemed to have increased drastically. Not that it worried me – quite the contrary, in actuality! The lovely princess was remarkably slender and thin (with the exceptions of her chest area and her shapely behind), so if she happened to become a bit chubbier thanks to these powerful desires and cravings… Well, I wouldn’t mind it at all. Oh, no. The more supple flesh for me to pinch and fondle to my heart’s content, I’d say!

But I digressed.

Since there was nothing left for me to do in the bedroom, I departed the chamber the second I had gotten myself dressed. Loitering around in here any longer wouldn’t do me any good after all, and the lurking radio audience in the back of my head nervously told me I should make haste, get out and _find_ Charlie already. The sooner, the better. 

Determined to track my dear darling down, I decided to check the kitchen and the dining room, next.

  
**AaA**

**  
**There was no Charlie in the kitchen.

There was no Charlie in the dining room.

And there was no Charlie in any of the other public rooms I briefly checked, either.

If that wasn’t problematic enough already, I also found myself being unable to find Vaggie, Niffty or Husker. There was _no_ trace of the four of them, none at _all_ , and I got more and more irritated, the longer I fruitlessly looked around the manor-turned-hotel. I had an inkling that I was missing out on something, that I was forgetting about something important… it was on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn’t get a grasp on it.

Meanwhile, the hotel itself steadily grew more lively by the passing minute. In time, I started stumbling upon degenerates and lowlifes, sitting themselves down in the otherwise empty corridors on neatly arranged chairs. They all worriedly watched me pace back and forth, no doubt wondering about what could be on the creepy Radio Demon’s mind. And while I didn’t _care_ about them, or about what they thought of me (I never bothered myself with that, so why start now?), their strangely specific sitting-and-waiting-behavior _did_ catch my attention. Aha – so there truly _was_ something mildly special going on today, it seemed.

Or not?

I was about to approach a female peacock demon (no special reason why I picked her out of all the present sinners, she simply happened to be the nearest one) and ask her about the whereabouts of Charlie and/or any of the other missing hotel staff members… when a door of one of the smaller, private rooms suddenly swung open. Vaggie appeared in the door opening, letting out a uninteresting, bumblebee-shaped demon fellow. She looked fatigued, but in a _good_ kind of way – and she smiled awkwardly when said sinner took her hand and shook it up and down, like her arm was an old-fashioned water pump.

“ _Thank_ _you_ , Ms. Vaggie – I never thought I’d ever be able to talk so _willingly_ about all that transpired back then, when I was still but a young flyer, dwelling the land of the living... but you sure proved me wrong! Even though it has been just a few sessions, I already feel so much _lighter_ now! So much _braver_! Maybe, not too long from now on, I can actually overcome my crippling fear of heights and finally _use_ my wings, without having to weep or shake every time I try to flap them!”

Observing the two bug demons interact, it suddenly dawned on me.

But of course, it was _Monday_.

 _Therapy_ _day_.

“Yeah, uh, you’re welcome, Bert.” Vaggie’s laugh was shrill and forced as she pried her hand out of the sinner’s. “Just – you know, remember to avoid flying around and landing with your eyes closed. At _all costs._ Because let’s not forget that this habit of yours didn’t work out all that _great_ for you when you were a professional balloonist in life.”

The bumblebee-creature laughed gawkily. “Yeah, you can say that again! Just ask that family of four that joined me on that very last trip, ha ha – or that sorry guy my basket crashed onto. Man, some explosion _that_ was!”

“God fucking dammit, I fucking _knew_ it was you!” a tall, muscular, Yeti-like person suddenly yelled out, dramatically tossing the magazine he was reading on the ground. He then stomped towards Bert, while making rolling-up-sleeves movements with his hands (even though he wore no sleeves at all). “I was about to get away with all that fucking loot, too, but no, _noooo_ , your stupid, bitch-ass balloon basket just _had_ to crash on top of me and the bomb!”

“Oh _shit_ ,” the bumblebee yelped – but before the Yeti and he could engage in an one-sided and profoundly _boorish_ fight, my black tentacle-creepers emerged from the red carpet, right after I had repeatedly hit the ground with my microphone stand. My nimble, extra pairs of arms immediately leaped up and wrapped themselves snugly around the two vile troublemakers, hoisting them high up into the air, where they couldn’t bother anybody anymore. The tentacles didn’t need to do anything else with the (now terrified) sinners, and, frankly, these ne’er-do-wells should count themselves lucky: in spite of being annoying and hindering me _greatly_ , they still got to live for another day _._ How very nice and considerate of me indeed.

“Why if it isn’t Vaggie!” I managed to sort-of-jovially greet my colleague, and briskly passed through the dark, wiggling vines (understandably, I fragrantly ignored the squealing sinners being held captive right above me). “Not the person I wanted to see the _most_ , sadly enough, but you’re still much better than nothing at all. I believe it’s my turn to see the shrink now!”

Vaggie looked at me, her one eye an almost closed, thick line. For some reason, she seemed to be disappointed in me, even _more_ disappointed than she usually already was, and one of her arms pointed sternly to the couch in the room behind her.

“Yeah, it’s your turn alright. _Sit_.”

A snail-like demoness looked up in confusion and for a fleeting moment, I thought she was going to voice it was actually _her_ turn now (which it was, most likely). I grinned widely as I stopped in front of her, flashed my sharp teeth at her and made an off-handed, ill-boding gesture at the tentacle-spectacle writhing _energetically_ in the middle of the hallway.

“Before you speak up, dear madam, _do_ know that there is room for **_more_ bothersome nuisances **in there.”

Naturally, the puny thing shrieked and hid herself underneath the chair. She left behind a nasty trail of - well, _slime_ , hopefully – as she did so. 

“Would you _stop_ scaring the clients shitless, you damn _freakshow_ ,” Vaggie snarled, cutting off my fearsome cackling by snagging me by the shoulders and subsequently hauling me inside of the small room. “Now sit your thin ass down in that sofa and tell me what the fuck you think you’re _doing_ already!”

I sneered at her, not intimidated in the least, and instantaneously shrugged her hands off of me. “May I kindly suggest you keep your grisly little moth-claws to _yourself_ , Vaggie – that would drastically lengthen your lifespan here in Hell, I can promise you. Also, it would be nice if you stopped screaming at me like that. I’m not really in the mood for one of your hysterical spats, in case you haven’t noticed yet.” 

“Oh I _noticed_ ,” Vaggie huffed, glancing at the loud ruckus in the hallway one last time before closing the door and heaving a deep, agitated sigh. “ _Goddammit_ Alastor, you can’t ever do things… _normally_ , can you?”

I gave her a benignant smile. “That’s simply not my style, my dear. You should know that by now.”

Vaggie groaned, decided to deny my comment’s existence altogether and sat down on the other armchair in the room. Her lonely, pinkish, hostile orb leered at me.

“So?” she barked.

I narrowed my eyes and raised an eyebrow. “So _what_?”

“So where the hell _were you_ this morning?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business and I don’t remember telling you that _that’s_ the reason why I wanted to see you.” I stared haughtily at her. “Listen, _Vagatha_ , why don’t you just tell me in which room Charlie is, hmm? Then I’ll be out of your stringy hair before you know it and you’ll be able to merrily carry on your _delightful_ psychiatrist-duties, as much as your fragile self-assurance desires.”

But Vaggie angrily shook her head. “I’m not going to tell you _shit_ , you bastard – not after that stunt you pulled off this morning!”

“What _stunt_ ,” I wanted to know. “What are you even going on about?”

“What, are you destructive _and_ stupid? Fucking _hell_ , Alastor – do you have any idea what Charlie _looked like_ when she walked into the kitchen a few hours ago? Have you seen her _eyes,_ all red and poofy?”

“I—”

“No you _didn’t_ – because you were fucking _gone_ when she woke up!” Vaggie groaned out loud, leaned back and shook her head at me, like she hadn’t ever seen anything _this_ nonsensical before. “Right after I had convinced her to give you another chance. _Shit_. Really, Alastor – what the _fuck_? Why did you rat out on her like that, _again_?”

“Now wait a minute, I didn’t ‘rat out’ on her at all!” I snapped back. “I was convinced she would stay in bed for much longer, hence why I thought it wouldn’t matter if I left the room for a bit.”

Vaggie groaned again. “It’s _Monday_ , Alastor. Charlie, me, Niffty and Husk all have therapeutic sessions with our clients today. Sure, Charlie didn’t have to take care of breakfast and therefore could get out of bed a _little_ later than usual today, but not multiple _hours_ later! Not with appointed _patients_ waiting for her! You should have _known_ that!”

“That…” My shoulders slumped down a bit. “That, unfortunately enough, completely slipped my mind, I must confess.”

“How fucking ironic: the _single_ day you weren’t supposed to fuck up in _any_ way, and you fucked it up _royally,_ before the sun had even risen. Congratulations – you’re the goddamn _bitch_ of Karma Town now.”

That little **_wench_**.

I had wanted to say something cold, brutal and cruel to her, something that would break her spirit and drive her to tears. Just to show her, for once and for all, that she shouldn’t get on an almighty overlord’s nerves like that. However, much to my annoyance, I actually found myself silently _agreeing_ with her. Deep inside, I had known beforehand that it was a gamble to leave Charlie alone, _especially_ in the vulnerable state of mind my sweetheart was the night before. In my hurry to go and fix my past miscalculations and errors as soon as possible, it seemed like I had only made _more_ grave errors, instead.

…I hated to admit it, but yes, that was painfully ironic indeed.

“Why did you even do it in the first place?” I then heard Charlie’s friend ask, making me look up at her. “What made you get up and leave?”

Hm. Something told me that telling Vaggie the first reason I left (I was bored) _probably_ wouldn’t give me many sympathy points. So instead, I went for the (actually just as truthful, yet a lot _better_ -sounding) second reason: the urgency to prepare Charlie a wedding proposal to die for.

Just as I suspected, the moment the word ‘proposal’ slipped past my lips, Vaggie’s demeanor changed… for the better, mostly. She still looked a _bit_ conflicted, but in general, it was like her entire person was given a popsicle to soothe and distract her from the inconvenient decisions I had made today.

“You – went to the library? To think up a wedding proposal?” Vaggie crudely summed my explanation up.

I nodded. “That I did.”

“Okay.” The mothy young woman folded her legs together and watched me intently. “Tell me more about it.”

Now, I blinked. “What – why? It’s not for _you_!”

“Yuck, thank god for _that_.” Vaggie made a disgusted face, but then she got serious again. “Look Alastor, I know Charlie will probably be done with her current client in about half an hour. You can talk to her when she lets them out, without disrupting anything serious. So in the meantime – tell me more about your wedding proposal. Maybe I can give you some pointers, to help you out.”

“ _Ha!_ Why would I need pointers of her rejected ex-lover,” I scoffed.

“Because you’re about to become one _as_ _well_ if you don’t accept all the fucking help you can get, you prideful _douche_.” She smirked. “But okay, fine, go on and keep acting like an asshole – who knows, you might even end up becoming the _mayor_ of Karma Town. _Then_ you’ll be sorry.”

I cocked my head. “I’m sorry, but how is being the mayor of Karma Town worse than being the bitch of Karma Town?”

“Uhm—”

“As a mayor, I can at least make some groundbreaking changes in Karma Town. Like doing something about the town’s waning infrastructure, for example.”

“I… what the actual fuck are you even sayi—”

“I’m saying your dumb analogy makes no sense, you daft _cow_.”

That sudden insult wasn’t appreciated, I could tell. Vaggie started to tremble like a leaf and got angry, red spots around her neck. Soundly, nay, _wonderfully_ rebuked and caught off guard, she glared at me.

Her unabashed rage amused me quite a bit I had to say, and I enjoyed its furious beauty to the fullest, before I eventually snickered: “But alright, my dear, alright! I got the message, loud and clear. Don’t pull a muscle now – I’ll humor you! I’ll tell you all about my wedding proposal, if you’re so desperate to hear more about it!”

“ _Fuck_ you,” Vaggie hissed, her upper lip curled up – but she also nodded. Ah, the duality of women…

 _And_ men.

After all, it was, without a shred of doubt, a _laughably_ minor chance... but I had to keep in mind that that _still_ meant there _was_ a small possibility that Vaggie was _right_. So like she had suggested: I was willing to accept all the advice people were willing to share with me right now.

Everything to prevent the worst from happening.

  
**VvV  
  
**

_Fuck_ that fucking _assfuck_ of a fucking _fuck_ fucking _fucker_ – I swear to God, why Charlie had ever fallen head over heels for _this_ guy – this… this despicable, honing, laughing piece of _shit_ – I was sure it would always remain a fucking mystery to me.

He was just – _such_ an _asshole_! Such a worthless, self-centered trash bin, filled with wasted potential, messed up dreams and bad, evil deeds and thoughts! Always thinking about himself and his needs, first, never sticking up for others, always leaning back with glee as he watched chaos unfold, never _once_ trying to make things better… fuck, I could go on for hours why Alastor was the biggest bastard I had ever met down here in Hell. I _could_ , and _nobody_ (except for Charlie, maybe) would even _try_ to deny it. That was just how much of a total nutjob he was.

But I wouldn’t go on about it.

Because I… could _see_ him now.

The more often I talked with him like _this_ , half-bickering, half-joking, the more I saw of the man behind the eternal psycho smile. The man _Charlie_ saw.

Right now, Alastor was enthusiastically talking about what he had thought up, concerning his wedding plans with Charlie. He told me about where they’d hold the wedding, what the place would be decorated like, who was going to be invited, who was going to prepare their wedding attires, who would take care of the rest of the hotel that day, who his best man was going to be, who Charlie’s maid of honor would be— wait.

“Me?” I heard myself interrupting his wild stream of words.

Alastor looked at me, a bit surprised, and nodded. “Yes – you. _Naturally_. You seem to be amazed to hear this. Why is that? I know this is just me, thinking out loud and assuming things, but I think it’s not too farfetched to believe you are most likely the _only_ suitable person to be Charlie’s maid of honor. You’re her best friend after all – you are special to her.”

“You… wouldn’t mind her ex-lover to… be present on such an important day? And to have such a big role, too?” I asked.

“No?” Alastor seemed profoundly confused. “Why would I mind? You’re not her lover anymore. You two broke up before Charlie and I started getting romantically involved. You never tried to take her away from me and you were kind enough to give me tips on how to handle her urges. Besides, you might be her former lover, but you’re not her former _friend_. You are _still_ her friend, after all. Her _best_ friend, even. I acknowledge and I respect you for that.”

“Huh.” I forcibly batted my one eyelid and pursed my lips together. “Tall words for the prick that called me a _daft_ _cow_ just a little while ago.”

“Admit it dear, that analogy _was_ pretty daft.”

“…yeah well, so is your damn _face_.”

“Hitting me where it hurts! Ouch!” Alastor’s amused grin grew wider. “Please, you can’t blame me for biting back every once in a while, now can you? It’s only fair. You have a way of **really** getting on my nerves, after all… But – that doesn’t automatically mean I despise you. I _don’t_ , namely. Not at all.” 

“Hm-hm,” I said, rolling my eye.

Alastor snickered. “Oh, you’re free to despise me anyway, by the by! I—”

“I don’t – _despise_ you.” I sighed and frowned at him. “I don’t _like_ you, Alastor. I will never like you, ever. But despising you… that might be taking it too far.”

“Oh my,” he muttered. “Well, I feel honored to have gained at least a little bit of respect from you, dear Vagatha! Who knows – maybe we’ll even end up as good friends one day!”

I shot an angry glare at the Radio Demon. “Don’t call me that – and don’t push your luck, you damn asshole: you still messed up _gigantically_ with Charlie. I understand now that you meant well and shit, but – your _timing_ , Alastor, fucking _hell_!”

Alastor’s smile decreased and he folded his hands together, leaning his chin on top of them. “Yes, I know. That could have been better.”

“You _really_ need to read the fucking room before you go do stuff like this – and before you try to be her knight in shining armor, it’s more important to prove to Charlie you’re not the _villain,_ first!” I continued. “And taking off that fucking bookmarker thing off her finger as well… _Christ_ man, you don’t just _drive_ into a cavern of doom, you fucking _race_ to it, don’t put your seatbelts on and set your car on _fire_ before you even take the fucking _plunge_!”

“Oh!” He was impressed. “Now _that’s_ a good analogy! Or is it a metaphor?”

“It’s neither one of those. You know what it _will_ be, though? The end of you and Charlie, if you don’t fucking _fess up_ your secrets to her.”

I stared at him, _urgently_.

“Do you get what I mean, Alastor?”

He didn’t evade my look and I noticed his lips lost even more of their original curve and confidence. Slowly, he moved his head up and down, gripping his own hands firmer. Charlie must have seen him like this more often, I comprehended: unsure, conflicted. Lost at what to do, what would be best for him to do. Maybe he even looked kind of defeated, in a way. I saw him like this _now_ , and it was weird… it was _so_ _weird_.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t ask her to marry me just yet, then,” he said.

“You _know_ you’ll only confuse and antagonize her further, if you propose to her in the current circumstances,” I told him.

He nodded. “I – yes. I see where you are coming from. It would be – quite absurd.”

“There is just one thing you should focus on now.” I lifted up my eyebrow. “Want to tell me what that is?”

“Revealing the truth to Charlie,” Alastor (shockingly obediently) said. “And I will. The day isn’t over yet, after all. Why, it has only just started! So – it will all be alright. I know it will be.”

Just like that, his smile was firmly back in place again – and goddammit, I felt a small smile creeping on my face, too. I guess I had to give him credits for being such an impossible _optimist_. No matter how hopeless things seemed to be, Alastor had this raw, enticing energy, this… _determination_ that could inspire pretty much anybody to never give up the fight, no matter how dark and grim the future seemed to be.

Kind of reminded me of somebody else I knew, to be honest.

Goddammit – they were fucking _perfect_ together.

Who knows what kind of person Charlie could become, with someone like Alastor on her side, supporting and encouraging her all the way.

Who knows what kind of person _Alastor_ could become, even.

He better not _fucking_ _mess_ _this_ _up_ _again_.

  
**VvV  
  
**

I woke up from my stern stupor when I saw Alastor taking out the red cord out of his pocket. He gave it a tender look, _so_ tender that it made _me_ feel embarrassed for seeing him like this, and I quickly cleared my throat – as a solid reminder to him he was still here with me, Vaggie, the easily-triggered chick that used to date his precious princess.

Not that he appeared to really care about that, but still.

“Let me guess – you were planning to propose to her with that dumb thing, weren’t you?” I wanted to know.

“I still am planning to!” he said, looking up with a sudden jolt (fucking freaking me out, dammit). “Eventually, that is. But… it probably would have been smarter to measure Charlie’s ring finger’s size with it, before snatching it from her. I want to use my magic to make some sort of ring out of this cord, but…”

“Fucking pathetic loser.” I grabbed my armchair, stood up with it and moved both me and the piece of furniture closer to Alastor’s sofa. Once there, I dropped down in it again and flung my hand in Alastor’s stupefied face. “Here you go.”

He moved away from me, his face looking like I had just made him the most appalling offer he had ever heard.

“ _Please_ remove your unappetizing, ugly little hand out of my—”

“Charlie and I have the same size, _dipshit_ ,” I impatiently told him. “I know because I once bought her a – non-wedding – ring and used my own finger to see if it fitted. It did. So knock yourself out.”

Just like that, Alastor’s face lit up. It positively fucking _sparkled_ , dammit, and I shut up when he started wrapping the red string around my ring finger. I casually observed him when he did so. It was almost funny to see him like this: his gaze was fixed and creepily intense, but his hands' actions were careful and punctual, handling the bookmarker with the utmost care and showing me once more just how much Charlie meant to him – how far he was willing to go for her.

I could at least help him an unappetizing, ugly little hand with that. 

Also, there was still one thing on my mind.

“When you talked about the wedding proposal, you – said you’ll pick Angel Dust,” I mumbled.

“Hmm?” Alastor hummed back.

“As your best man.” I swallowed. “ _Not_ Husk. While everybody knows _he’s_ the closest thing you have to a best friend.”

“Ah, well.” Alastor chortled and put a tiny knot in the cord. “I wouldn’t do Husker a favor with making him my best man, trust me on this one – he woke up as a demonic cat in Hell for a reason, ha ha! No, Husker’s better fit as my best _bar_ man at the wedding. Furthermore…”

“…yeah?”

He looked up at once, startling me _again_ (fucking damn _shitlord_ ).

“I think _you_ would like it better for Angel Dust to be there with you, wouldn’t you?”

Oh.

Angel, being there with me and experiencing up close, together with me, how the relationship of two people helped us – try to figure things out for ourselves, too.

A warm feeling seeped into my chest and something in there squeezed together really tightly for a second or two, before I let out an annoyed huff and looked away from the grinning shit lord.

“J-just hurry the fuck up already, Charlie’s probably almost done by now.”

I had expected Alastor to cackle and keep asking for more details, like the pestering jackass he was. But thankfully, his attention was on the bookmarker again, and I could just stupidly sit there and be just as stupidly happy about something that probably wasn't going to happen in the first place, but fuck it.

Fucking _fuck_ it.

Let _me_ be positive for once.

If someone like Alastor could be, in spite of _everything_ , than I sure as _fuck_ could be like that.

I could at least _try_ to be.

  
**AaA**

  
“Just one sec, Escargoldie,” Vaggie told her next patient in line, as we left her counseling room, “you can already get in, I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

As soon as the cautious slug-demon had given her a small nod, Vaggie gestured me to follow her... to the very _next_ door, right next to hers.

Ah.

But of _course_ Charlie’s counseling room had be the room right next to Vaggie’s.

I wasn’t too annoyed, though. Oh no, heaven forbid – talking to Vaggie had helped me putting things back in perspective again, so I, for one, was _glad_ Vaggie had taken the time to hear and chew me out! I was going to do things the _right_ way now: telling Charlie what she wanted to hear from me, giving her time to recover from it and then – and I wasn’t sure when ‘ then’ was going to be, but it would be some time before ‘now’ – ultimately asking the charming Princess of Hell to please become my angelic wife.

Things perhaps would turn out even _better_ for me, in many, many ways!

Ha ha! Oh my goodness – that Vaggie! She really was one _heck_ of a therapist, now, wasn’t she? I had even started to take her _seriously_! Just what were the odds!

“Well, it’s all up to you now,” Vaggie said, pointing at the door. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“With your blessings? I could _never_ ,” I smiled.

She shook her disgruntled face at me and presented me her middle finger, before hurrying herself back to her three remaining clients. She left me in the presence of at least – oh, six to eight other sinners, all waiting for their turn to speak with Doctor Charlie. It was a fairly large assemblage of sinners, especially if I compared her amount of clients with those of Vaggie. And she probably had already spoken with some sinners already, as well.

Oh my. My talented, much beloved Charlie’s Mondays were much busier than I expected! I should keep that in mind...

Before too long, the door to Charlie’s little therapy room opened up – and I instantly straightened my back. The room appeared to have a window located to where the sun was shining outside (or it was my imaginative mind playing tricks on me), because when her pretty, delicate silhouette came into view, it was surrounded by the brightest light I had ever seen down here, in Hell.

I bit the inside of my cheek in admiration of the beautiful sight. _Goodness_ , what a _suitable_ manifestation – what a wonderful _aura_ , for an angel like Charlie.

She saw me standing in front of her and approached me with quick, steady steps.

I exhaled and willed my anxious heart to calm down. “Charlie, my love, I—”

**_\- S M A C K –_ **

The vicious strike that hit my face had enough strength and white-hot rage within it to momentarily stun me and it sent my monocle flying through the corridor – I heard the glass break as soon as it fell to the ground. With my perplexed and completely overthrow mind drawing a blank, I pressed a hand to my pulsating, scratched cheek and turned my face towards Charlie.

I had never seen her like this before.

Her hair was a raving and rabid flurry of gold and blonde. Her sclera had turned blood red, with in the middle of it irises that were two vile, frightening shades of yellow. Her pupils were nothing more but thin, cold splits, brimming with fury. I saw two long, sharp horns had sprouted out of her head and her facial features seemed to be almost reptile-like – so _hard_ , so _inhuman._

So _demonic_.

“You want to send me to Heaven,” she heaved her words, her voice both heavy and soft at the same time, “even though you _know_ how I feel about leaving my sinners. How much I _care_ about them. How hard I fought to get where I am _now_.”

“Charlie…”

“It doesn’t mean _anything_ to you. Does it? Absolutely _nothing_. Only _your_ goals matter. Only _your_ plans count. Well guess what, Al?”

I tried to take her hands. “Charlie, please let me ex—”

**“You will _never_ get me to Heaven.”**

She slapped my hands away and stormed off right after, leaving the hallway behind with a collection of terror-stricken sinners and smoldering footsteps, burned into the carpet. Not long after that, Vaggie burst out of her room, took one good look at what was happening, and sprinted after Charlie, calling out her name in a pleading manner.

I – simply stood there, numbed, watching them both leave. A small, hesitant coughing noise made me turn my head to the side, and then I saw him. He seemed to be just as bewildered as the rest of us was, his partly-restored Angel-wings sheepishly hanging downwards.

Bob. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An arrogant miller tells the King his daughter can spin gold from straw. The King does the only logical thing: he locks the girl up in a tower room filled with nothing but straw and a spinning wheel and orders her to spin all of the straw into gold before sunrise – or else he will cut off her head! Of course, the girl doesn’t know how to do that and fears the worst. Then a magical imp appears, who promises her he’ll spin all the straw in the room into gold, if the girl gives him her necklace. She does and the imp does his thing.  
> The next day, the stupefied King locks the girl up in a bigger straw-filled room and gives her the same conditions as the day before. Luckily, the imp shows up again, and spins all the straw into gold in exchange for the girl’s ring.  
> Then the King gets even nastier: he tells the miller’s daughter that she needs to spin the biggest third straw-room into gold, and if she manages to do that, the King will marry her (because nothing says ‘I love you’ more than a death threat). The imp returns that night, but now the girl doesn’t have anything to offer him anymore… that is, unless she gives him her firstborn child. In tears, the desperate girl consents, and the imp spins the straw into gold.  
> The King and girl marry shortly after and when their first child is born, the imp comes back to the Queen, demanding she gives him her baby. The Queen tries to persuade him, offering him all the riches the castle has – but the imp is only interested in the child. Finally, however, he agrees to give up his claim to the baby if the Queen can guess his name within three days.  
> Before the final night, a servant of the Queen happens to stumble upon the imp’s home in the woods, and sees him dancing and singing in there: “The Queen will never win the game, for Rumpelstiltskin is my name!”  
> When the imp comes to her the next day, the informed Queen feigns ignorance for a bit… but then she reveals his name! Rumpelstiltskin loses his temper and runs away angrily, never to be seen again.
> 
> This fairy tale, collected by the Brothers Grimm, has many new, modern versions in which they try to make the King (that’s right, the KING) ‘nicer’ – for example, by making the miller’s daughter lazy. It doesn’t help much: for many people, the greedy, pushy King will always be a bigger bastard than Rumpelstiltskin.


	29. Schrödinger's Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter's name is not a fairy tale, fable or myth this time, but a well-known (and often wrongly interpret) thought experiment. Now - I'm not a scientist or physicist in any way and I don't know all that much about quantum mechanics, so I apologize beforehand if I wrongly described what Schrödinger's cat experiment was, or was meant to be about.  
> You may always correct me of course! However, please keep in mind that I purely used the story of this thought experiment for fun and because I thought it fitted nicely with this chapter. That's it!^^
> 
> Last week, Charlie stomped off after discovering what Alastor had been up to all this time. She didn't respond well to this revelation... what's Al going to do now?
> 
> Enjoy! 8DDD Uh, well, try to!

One would assume I should have felt a certain kind of relief, now that Alastor’s awful secret had come to light at last.

It was the right thing to do. It _was_. I was certain of it.

Yet, when I saw Princess Charlotte’s whole persona change for the worse, right in front of my very eyes… when I saw how she slapped and yelled at Alastor, before running off in rage… when I saw Alastor standing in the door opening after all that had occurred, his scratched-open cheek dripping blood on the floor and his expression completely detached from this world...

I heavily doubted that same certainty.

“You told her,” was all that Alastor said to me.

“No – she _asked_ me,” I hurriedly corrected him, folding up my still aching wings and hiding them away in my jacket again. “She explicitly _asked_ me. I – you know I cannot lie. Angels cannot lie. I was able to keep her in the dark for so long because she never suspected who I was, because she never wanted to… study my feathers from up-close.”

He only stared at me. The blood oozing out of his face was making me feel feeble to the stomach. It was such a dark shade of red, it might as well could have been black.

“The princess was different today,” I hastily carried on, understanding that the Radio Demon was not going to say something. “She felt… aloof, lethargic. Almost as if nothing mattered to her anymore. It hurt my chest to see her like that, so I tried to cheer her up a bit by praising her, telling her it was thanks to her excellent care and therapeutic sessions that I was starting to feel better, that – that even my _wings_ seemed to recover faster. That seemed to spark some interest in her and she asked if she could see my wings. I – I said it was okay.”

Alastor sighed, but that was it.

I looked down, to my lap. “I had no choice. I spread out my wings. She – saw them. She was impressed and said they were beautiful. That they reminded her of her uncles’ angelic wings. She grew silent after that and then she suddenly asked me whether or not I happened to be related to an Angel, perchance. I attempted to change the subject, but it was futile: Princess Charlotte was persistent and her sudden interrogation of me was short, yet steadfast. She insisted I answered her questions, so I did. I _had_ to. That is how she found out who I was, before I came to the hotel. And that is how she found out… my connection to you.”

Alastor raised a hand to his face and finally seemed to realize he was bleeding.

“I did _not_ break the deal you and I made,” I stammered, starting to feel more than helpless here, with Alastor not responding to a word I said. “You have to believe me – I hardly said anything at all. The princess figured out all of your secrets by _herself_. She simply put two and two together, and that was that. Her subsequent line of questions only required a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ from me as an answer – and then my scheduled time with her was up. I tried to tell her that there was more to it than she thought, but she ignored my repeated pleas, walked to the door and opened it. And then _you_ were there. And then… you know the rest.”

The silence that followed felt like a thick smog, slowly smothering me.

“I should get my cheek treated,” Alastor eventually said.

Now it was my turn to stare at _him._

“Is… is that all you have to say to what I have done?”

He nodded. “That is all.”

“But I have just destroyed your happiness.” I gritted my teeth and let my head hang even more, my blonde bangs dangling in front of my face. “I was going to help you, but I ruined it. Now you will die, for _naught_ , and she will be stuck down here forever. I feel so ashamed. I – please, Alastor, I need you to say something to me. Anything. _Please_.”

“In that case… I’m glad to see that the therapy sessions with Charlie are working out great for you, Hakim.”

W-what?

I made a surprised, choked up noise and jerked my head up, that felt unspeakable heavy with desperate tears and pent-up frustration over this whole situation, up at once.

But there was nobody there anymore.

  
**HhH**

**  
**Well Monday turned out to be one giant mammoth-dump of a day. Jesus _Christ_.

I didn’t get the gist of all the shit that hit multiple fans that day right away, because my crummy little counseling room just happened to be the one furthest located of all the uproar - just my fucking luck. So during the time a furious Charlie marched off and left behind a terrified group of sinners and a hallway engulfed in small pieces of ember and simmering furniture, I was fucking _busy_. Busy putting tiny matchsticks in-between my fucking eyelids to keep them from _falling_ _shut_ as I listened to a very boring sinner with an even _more_ boring life story (I was like 89% sure the sucker had ended up in Hell because his life had just been _too fucking boring_ ).

I fucking missed _all_ of it.

I still found out about Charlie’s outburst anyway, but much, _much_ later that afternoon, when I was finally done listening to whiny dead criminals. After that, hell I became _acutely_ aware of the evil lava-graveyard-aesthetics that going on outside of my room - as soon as I took _one_ fucking step outside. 

Didn’t take me all that long to come to the ‘shocking’ conclusion that Alastor had fucked up. _Again_.

Not going to lie: looking back on all of his elaborate plans, his crazy schemes _and_ the misguided, leaning on _childish_ optimism he had while preparing them, no matter _what_ happened, I wasn’t even a _little_ bit surprised about this outcome.

Alastor fucking things up was getting older and moldier than a disgusting, ripe cheese – and likely just as smelly. But what can you do about it, huh? And what can the cheese or Al do about it? Nothing! Absolutely nothing at all!

Fuck. Where was a bottle of whiskey when you fucking _needed_ it, damn it!  
  


**HhH  
  
**

Around dinner time, when things seemingly had calmed down a bit again, it was Vaggie who told me Alastor’s Stockholm Syndrome-loving victim Bob had apparently spilled the beans to Charlie, before Alastor himself had been able to tell her. The princess had allegedly _smacked_ the _tar_ out of the poor bastard when Alastor tried to explain himself, and then she had fled to her bedroom, locking herself up. It was a precautionary measure, Vaggie had said, because Charlie had supposedly gone full-demon and therefore feared she might lose control and start hurting people if she didn’t hide herself away from the rest of the hotel.

“Sooo… when will she get out of her room?” I asked Vaggie, who stared at a sad piece of bell pepper on her plate like it was a fucking dead child.

“When she’s calmed down,” Vaggie responded.

“Huh. And when is that going to happen?”

“I’m… not sure.” She put a part of the green vegetable in her mouth and started to gnaw on it. “I’ve seen her demonic side more often, but – never like _this_.”

I hummed and looked around the table. We sat in the quaint kitchen, with just a select collection of sinners and hotel employees: me, Vaggie, Alastor, Niffty, Bob and Angel Dust. The rest of the hotel’s inhabitants were eating in the dining room. Charlie liked to share all of the meals with the hotel’s sinners as much as possible, and while that had slowly started to become customary (thanks to Alastor and his international-breakfasts-kink on Sundays), Vaggie had decided it was better if the sinners just ate on their own for the time being.

They didn’t need to know more about what the hell was going on in the hotel than was necessary, because it wasn’t like _we_ knew, Vaggie’s reasoning was – and I couldn’t really go against that logic.

Charlie’s fit of rage had left all of us in disarray, I noticed as I let my eyes glance past the long, dour faces sitting at the kitchen table. Vaggie was as pale as a sheet and had been chewing on that bell pepper for minutes now. Angel Dust, getting antsy because of the gloomy atmosphere, couldn’t stop moping and complaining about the food (“Why the fuck do these burrito’s only have gross-ass _bell_ _peppers_ in them? _Green ones,_ even!”). Niffty had started cleaning up a random spoon and didn’t blink even once as she kept polishing and polishing it, in this obsessive, compulsive manner. Meanwhile, Bob – who apparently was allowed to sit with us because he was in cahoots with Alastor or something, I guess – could just as well have been a lifeless statue in all fairness, and finally, Alastor…

Oh fuck, _Alastor_.

Let’s just fucking _skip_ telling what _he_ looked like, because I swear his fake smile was such a despairing sight to behold, it was enough to make a fucking grown man bawl like a damn baby. Good thing everybody was too distressed to watch me grumpily dab my wet eyes with Vaggie’s pink ribbon.

Maybe I was an old fool, but fuck _me_ if I didn’t take pity on Alastor, that lanky _moron_. I _maybe_ even had almost said something remotely _friendly_ to him (although I only had empty, untrue consolations at the ready for him), but before I had started opening my mouth, Vaggie’s sharp, angry voice already rang through the room.

“I think it’s about time you told _us_ , Alastor – about whatever the fucking hell you’ve been so adamant on keeping secret for so long. Not just from _Charlie_ , but from the rest of us as well. Because whatever you had in store for her, _probably_ had something to do with the hotel and the sinners as well. Isn’t that right?”

“In a way,” Alastor vaguely answered. He looked ridiculous with that purple, heart-shaped band-aid Niffty had lovingly slapped onto the wound on his cheek, but nobody was in the mood to laugh about it.

Vaggie sat back in her chair and glared at him. “The time for acting like a cryptic troll is _over_ , Alastor. You see what all that sneaking around and scheming has rewarded you with: a fucking messy break-up with probably the _only_ person in Hell who saw something _good_ in you, in spite of _everything_. Congratu-fucking-lations. You just got _dumped_. How does it feel?”

“I didn’t get dumped,” Alastor said. “I think.”

…

That was the most depressing thing I had ever heard him say.

Well fuck.

Looks like I needed more of Vaggie’s ribbon.

“Blow your goddamn nose on my bow and I’ll make you piss from your navel, you washed-up alley cat,” Vaggie warned, puffing her cheeks up like an angry blowfish as she sternly pushed my paws away from her head. She subsequently looked back at Al, sighed and brought her hands up to her temples, gently rubbing them.

“Look, just – ugh, just _tell_ _us_ already, Alastor. What did you have planned for Charlie, _why_ did you plan it and what is up with it _now_?”

Alastor looked at her and thought carefully about his words, bringing a hand to his chin and tapping it lightly.

“So _these_ are the questions you wish to have answered. The exact, same questions Charlie got her answers for. Yes?”

Oh.

Oh _no_.

No no _no_.

Vaggie, not noticing the bewildered expression I shot at Al, nodded. “Of course! I want to hear all the answers _she_ heard!”

“Well, incidentally, she didn’t get answers to _all_ of these questions, to be fai—”

“Doesn’t fucking _matter_!” Vaggie, taking the bait, slammed her hands on the table, making Niffty shriek and Bob flinch. “These are the questions we have, and we _demand_ you _answer_ them! Don’t you fucking _dare_ wringing your way out of this _now_!”

Alastor chuckled weakly, _insistently_ ignoring my alarmed look. Angel Dust, realizing one or two things for himself, too, looked fairly stressed all of a sudden as well – but he did a pretty good job on looking cool and unaffected anyway. Bob, in the meantime, simply continued being an unresponsive brick. So I guess he was just normal.

“Calm yourself down, my dear, no need to flip your lid – I’ll happily answer these questions!” Alastor easily said.

“Al,” I began – but Alastor immediately shook his head at me.

“No no no, my friend, the mothy lady is right: they have the right to know what I have been planning, why I planned it and how far I got with it. Just in big lines, though: it’s honestly not all that difficult to connect the dots together, once I’ve gotten started. A quick heads-up before I’ll speak up though: perhaps some of you will like me even _less_ after I’ve finished talking about my plan. As far as that is possible, of course. But alas, that’s a cross I’ll have to bear!”

 _No_ , I wanted to snap at him, _no_ – _do_ give us the fucking detailed version – _do_ fucking tell us all about what the fuck’s going on, who has been willingly helping you out all along and what’s going to happen to you! Don’t you fucking take all of the fall yourself – don’t you fucking have the _nerve_ to leave out the things that make you look better than you’re doing _right_ _now_!

But I didn’t say anything.

I didn’t even try to intercept.

“Ready?” Alastor kindly asked Vaggie and the rest of the people sitting at the table, weaving his long fingers together and effortlessly hiding the hideous scar on the back of his hand. “Then allow me to explain my amusing little scheme to you worthless lowlifes.” 

I could only sit there, glued to my chair, and helplessly listen to how Alastor’s words unveiled the truth.

Not _all_ the truth.

He didn’t say a word about my involvement in his plan since day 1.

He didn’t say a word about how Angel Dust helped him out during the power outage, on the day he went to meet up with the Heavenly being sent from above.

He didn’t say a word about how said Heavenly being was now voluntarily supporting and encouraging his goal.

He didn’t say a word about the end game of his plan.

And he— didn’t say a word about his upcoming demise.

It wasn’t all the truth, but it _was_ all the truth. Since it was all the truth _Charlie_ had learned.

As long as _she_ hadn’t heard the full story, first, like he had promised he’d tell her, _nobody_ would hear the full story. 

God _damn it_ , Al…

God fucking damn it _all_.

  
**VvV**

**  
**So.

In a nutshell…

Alastor had wanted to send Charlie to Heaven, because he thought she was too good for Hell. He didn’t ask her if that was okay with her – no, he just _decided_ it was okay. Behind Charlie’s back, he had schemed and planned and manipulated I-don’t-know- _how_ many people around him in order to have an Angel (a.k.a. Brooding _Bob_ , who fucking knew?) descending down from Heaven. Then, he fucking _kidnapped_ that Angel and forced him to stay in Hell, in Charlie’s hotel, so that he could judge Charlie’s suitability for Paradise. But Charlie apparently didn’t meet all the conditions yet. Apparently, she was well on her way to get Bob-Approved anyway, but then – _Monday_ happened, with Charlie basically telling Alastor that his plan was a fucking bust and that she wasn’t going to dance to the radio host’s tune anymore. The end.

That was what shitlord told us.

Of course, reactions of me, Husk and the others varied:

Angel Dust bluntly said he thought Charlie was a ‘prissy little overreactin’ drama queen who’s crown was still too heavy for her to wear’ and agreed with Alastor’s statement: Charlie belonged in Heaven, even if she acted like 'a mean hissy bitch’, and she should just cash in her wings already, _period_.

(…since the way he put it was surprisingly artsy, I begrudgingly accepted his usage of ‘bitch’ in this context.)

Meanwhile, Niffty felt that she was ‘way too tiny and stupid’ to ever get what went on in Alastor’s head anyway and therefore had no opinion on the matter whatsoever, but she _did_ mention that she hoped the Charlastor-ship wasn't sinking. I – wasn’t entirely sure what the hell she was even talking about, but whatever: I had learned to just shut out the crazy part of Niffty’s words for a _long_ time already.

Husk and Bob didn’t say anything at all, but Husk was uncharacteristically, genuinely _pissed_ at Alastor and angrily stormed out of the kitchen shortly after his friend was done talking. It kind of amazed me, to be honest: yes, I knew Husk was pretty fond of Charlie and all, but I had no idea he’d be _that_ disgusted with Alastor’s scheme. He didn’t even do as much as look at him as he slammed the door shut.

Bob, on the other hand, looked like he was getting torn apart by all kinds of emotions from the inside, and he just sat there, hunched over his scarcely-touched plate.

As for me?

 _Tsk_. I was _more_ than ready to just eject that damn Radio Demon out of Charlie’s hotel and be over and done with him already, of course.

He had _hurt_ Charlie. _Badly_. For that alone, I wanted to kick his bony ass into the deepest pit of Hell _so_ damn _hard_ , he’d even feel it burn over the next couple of centuries. 

And yeah, sure, looking from a certain angle to his plan, I guess you could argue that his intentions were ‘good’ and even kind of romantic at the heart of it – but _god_ , the insane logic behind this scheme… the way his plan was executed… all the people he had misled, lied to and hurt… the fact he simply didn’t give a flying fuck about Charlie’s stance on the matter, _or_ about what would happen with the hotel and its sinners, once Charlie had ascended to Heaven…

All of that was fucking _despicable_. 

Thus when that awful Monday (and later also Tuesday and Wednesday) had sluggishly passed by, with no signs that – a heartbroken and still _very_ enraged – Charlie was going to leave her locked bedroom anytime soon, I made up my mind, for once and all.

It… was _time_. Finally, I was going to do something that I should have done much, _much_ sooner this week…

Which was looking up Alastor and blatantly command him to help me out with managing the hotel.

…what?

No, I _wasn’t_ going to kick him out, not _now_ – come on, the already chaotic hotel was getting _more_ disorganized and hysterical _every_ _freaking_ _day_ , now that Charlie refused to pick up her duties! Husk, Niffty and even Angel Dust did the best they could to aid me, but other than me and Charlie, only Alastor had some experience in handling the hotel and all the shit that came with it. And I hated to admit it, but the hotel could use all the support that was available right now.

So that meant I needed to stop avoiding Alastor and bite the damn bullet already.

  
**VvV  
  
**

Alastor, who was mostly loafing around in the hotel’s corridors all miserably these days, seemed downright astonished to hear me ~~ask~~ _order_ him for his assistance.

“Are you sure you want _my_ help, dear? You still know who I am, right? The Radio Demon! And you happened to be quite angry with that _devilishly_ handsome fellow,” he mockingly reminded me, one of his brows quirked upwards. “Why, even good old Lucifer was more enthusiastic to see me at that party of his, and then I’m talking about a man who was literally planning to exterminate me!”

I stared at him. “He _what_ now?”

Alastor cracked a faint smile and easily hand-waved his comment away. “Oh, never you mind…”

“Well, anyways… I know I was mad at you – can you fucking _blame_ me, you scheming _fuck_ – but I could really use some assistance on managing the hotel right now. Don’t worry, you bet your imaginary ass I will give you _plenty_ of judgmental stink-eye later, when things are back to normal again. For now, however… just help us out, alright?” I frowned at him, then looked over his shoulder, to Charlie’s bedroom door. “Or are you too caught up in stalking Charlie, like the sad loser you are?”

He clacked his tongue in mild annoyance. “Silly Vaggie – it’s hardly considered _stalking_ if the target’s out of the stalker’s reach either way.”

“Okay, _slightly_ freaked out you didn’t deny my jokingly-meant accusation, but I’ll let it slide.” I gave him a disapproving, yet also somewhat worried glance. “No offense, Alastor, but _damn_ , you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“This? Oh this is _nothing_ ,” Alastor said, laughing my comment off. “You should check up on me again when I’ve stayed awake for yet _another_ week. I swear that in time, the bags underneath my eyes will sprout bags underneath _their_ bags, too!”

Instead of trying to figure out what the fuck he was even saying, I heard myself mutter: “You’re really taking this hard, aren’t you?”

“Ah. Well. My dear, I _could_ give a _very_ sarcastic and mean-spirited reply to that insultingly stupid question of yours, but let me just nod my head dismissively instead.” Alastor said, nodding his head dismissively. “Truth be told, I could feel _worse_ , I’m sure, but that’s probably because I’m still progressing Charlie’s… words.”

I saw what he did there and groaned, scratching my head. “You’re also still stubbornly clinging to some shreds of hope, aren’t you.”

“Naturally.”

“You _really_ don’t know when to give up.”

He smiled and turned a little bit, to look at the room Charlie had holed herself up in. “I like to tell myself that as long as the door to her bedroom is shut, Charlie has neither rejected, nor forgiven me. The unknown answer is still up for debate. Or, to put it simply: anything still goes!”

“Thought-experimenting like that will keep your sanity grounded, I guess,” I shrugged, also looking at Charlie’s bedroom. “For a while, at least…”

My voice trailed off when I took a good look at Charlie’s chamber. Ever since Charlie had stashed herself away, her bedroom – or, more specifically, its _door_ – had completely changed its appearance.

All of the hotel’s bedroom doors were a different, yet nice kind of red, and Charlie’s bedroom door used to be the same. Hell, Charlie had been _so_ dead set on having the _exact_ same kind of room as those the sinners got, that she in the beginning used to walk into the wrong bedroom constantly. She didn’t want to be or act differently from the rest of her clients and staff members, even though she still _was_ the head manager… _and_ the Princess of Hell.

I didn't question it, that was just who Charlie _was._

But Charlie’s bedroom door _now_ …

All of its red color had faded to a deep, dark shadow of nothing but _black_. The material of the door itself, the doorknob – everything was just black now. Other than that, the doorpost and the wall around the dark door had vicious, sharp cracks in it, covering much of the entire surface – almost as if Charlie had slammed the door shut a bit too _violently_ after stamping into her room. And then there were these… small, burning crevices surrounding the door and sullying the damaged wall. Gray, foul fumes of weird-smelling smoke leaked out of all the small openings and holes non-stop, so I had opened all the windows on this floor, to at least keep the fire alarm from going off.

For someone who hated getting extra attention purely based on her heritage and her position as a royal, Charlie _sure_ was making it obvious which bedroom was hers _now_. But then again, maybe she couldn’t help affecting the furniture like that, or maybe she _was_ doing it willfully, but for nobler purposes, like for keeping people at a safe distance, so she wouldn’t harm them. Angry and heartbroken or not, the being inside that room still was Charlie, after all, and _not_ some sort of evil… videogame end-of-the-last-level-boss.

“The situation is pretty hopeless, isn’t it,” I said out loud, shaking my head as I studied the grotesque scene that was Charlie’s bedroom door. “I have no idea when she'll come out. Like I said before, I – had never seen her this angry before. Nobody has _ever_ managed to push her buttons like that, not until _you_ came along and fucked shit up. That’s quite an accomplishment, I have to say.”

I mentally cursed at myself. Goddammit – it wasn’t supposed to come out all bitchy and haughty like that, what fucking good would it do to start a fight with Alastor _now,_ for fuck’s sake – but it was too late, I had already said it. _Shit._ Me and my big mouth…

However, Alastor didn’t react like I thought he would. He turned to me and glanced at me weirdly, with his clashing eyes, and then he silently beckoned me to follow him, away from Charlie’s room. In most situations, I’d assume he was up to no good or maybe had some cruel prank for me in store – but now, for whatever reason, I decided to wordlessly obey and walk after him.

In another hallway, where Charlie wouldn’t be able to hear us (as far as she was even occupied with whatever the hell me and Alastor were doing), the Radio Demon told me that I was wrong.

“You said that nobody had ever pushed her that far, right? That you had never seen her this angry before. Isn’t that so?” 

“Yeah?” I nodded, narrowing my eye. “What’s wrong about that?”

“About the latter part? Nothing!” Alastor said. “I’m willing to believe you never annoyed Charlie to the extend I did – and good for you, I suppose, since that means you never saw her lose her temper like this. But you were wrong about the first part – about that nobody else has ever pushed her this far. I’m fairly sure Charlie has been like this before… and I’m also fairly sure we can actually do something about our current plight, if we just ask the right person for help.”

I understood what he was hinting on and felt my eye spread itself in awe. “You mean…”

“Yes: we should ask Lilith to come over and have a little talk with her daughter!” Alastor’s grin got something hopeful again. “Of _course_ you and I never saw Charlie like this – we probably haven’t been in Hell long enough to have ever witnessed _this_ daring side of our lovely princess!”

“I do recall hearing some… _rumors_ about her, back when I hadn’t met her in person yet,” I slowly admitted, “and remember when I… _warned_ you about her? I’m starting to think that… well… what if _that_ has something to do with…”

But I acutely stopped talking like that when I realized Alastor wasn’t listening to me anymore, but instead was _fucking feeling me up,_ god fucking _dammit_ that confusing asexual _pervert_!

“Don’t fucking _touch_ me!” I snarled at him and was about to yell and cuss at him, when he snatched my phone out of my pocket with his long, creepy fingers and started tapping his nails on the screen like his damn life depended on it.

“Wha – _hey!_ That’s _mine,_ asshole! Give it back!”

“You can ring her up!” he said, while I yanked my phone out of his grizzly hands and started rubbing his Alastor-bacteria off of it with the hem of my dress. “I know Lilith’s phone number by heart – seems like witnessing Charlie call her mother so many nights was good for something after all – and even though I doubt she’d like to talk to me, I’m sure she won’t mind it if Charlie’s far more kinder ex-lover pays her a little call. Especially not if she knows it’s about the well-being of her little ‘apple beignet’.”

Alastor beamed a huge, confident smile at me, but I wrinkled my forehead, giving him a critical look. “I’m _not_ so sure. Last time I met Lilith – not counting that time they came over to the hotel for lunch – she was pretty… indifferent. She didn’t seem to care all that much about Charlie, or her hotel. It kind of broke my heart, every time I saw Charlie trying to get something of a reaction out of her parents, _preferably_ out of her mother, and failing time after time. I think the Queen isn’t a really good or involved mother. I... I could _try_ and give her a call anyway, but... just what good would that do? She probably won’t even bother hearing me out.”

“I respectfully disagree,” Alastor simply said.

“Oh – is that so, wiseass?” I snorted. “You know something I don’t?”

Alastor put his hands on his back and grinned widely at me – a rather big, crude and unsetting grin, even. Suddenly seeing him exposing all of his pointy, yellow teeth like that startled me a bit, but I kept my face straight. Much to my annoyance, Alastor didn’t elaborate on what he exactly meant to say with that sly fuck-face of his, and continued staring at me, his eyes flicking from the phone in my hands to my baffled expression.

Did… Alastor have some _dirt_ on Lilith?

“You know what – _fine_ ,” I huffed in the end, unlocking my phone with a quick flick of my finger. “I – I hate talking to… not-very-well-known-people on the phone and I also don’t like talking to Lilith in general, but let’s just ignore that combination of two of my dumbest fears for now. You seem to know what you’re doing, you damn con man, so I’ll… give her a call, I guess. What’s her number?”

Alastor told me – and as soon as I had found a quieter place, I dialed the number.

  
**BbB**

**  
**I cannot stress enough how lost, desolate and disconnected from the world around me I was, after all that had transpired on that cursed Monday. I was a mere husk from the person I was trying to become on that day: a wretched, lonely being, with slumped shoulders and a wound on his heart that felt too big to heal.

Was this what so-called ‘heartbreak’ was supposed to feel like?

If so, I did not like it.

In all seriousness, the sole reason I was still walking around and functioning somewhat decently, was because I felt like I _had_ to – like I owed it to both Princess Charlotte and Alastor. To Princess Charlotte, because I had pushed her over the edge with my unguarded stance and irrational desire to please her. And to Alastor, because _I_ had been the one to tell the princess about his dark secret – and he had not even punished me for it. According to what his strange cat companion had told me a bit later this week, Alastor apparently had been planning to confess his evil deeds to Princess Charlotte that day… and I simply happened to have been a tad faster than him, ruining it all for him.

Knowing this, however, gave me… mixed feelings.

A part of me felt terrible about playing a part in destroying Alastor and Princess Charlotte’s relationship. That was _not_ what an Angel was supposed to do. As an Angel, I should fight against evil and terminate wicked beings from roaming the world of the good and living – _not_ indirectly break up two people who obviously were very much in love with one another and seemed to complement each other wonderfully.

Another part of me tried to reassure me that I should not feel bad about happened to them, since Alastor was an evil human soul to begin with. Perhaps he had indeed intended to expose his secrets to her and perhaps she would have forgiven him, but it would be ignorant to think that a serial killer – _please_ let us not forget that the man used to be _an actual serial killer_ – would somehow _not_ wind up hurting his lover again. I had done the princess a favor by telling her what she wanted to know. That is what this part of me desperately tried to tell me.

And then there was this… very small, very sinister and very twisted part of me. A part that I had not known before. A part that timidly whispered to me that I had done well, and that this could be my chance. Alastor had given up. The princess was hurt and vulnerable. Whatever would stop me now from taking a shot at…

…oh _lord_ how much I feared and _loathed_ that part of me. _Disgraceful_.

Fortunately enough, this rotten side of me was nipped in the bud when I discovered, over the course of the following days, that Alastor, notwithstanding the grim circumstances and the dire situation he was in, seem to recover from his initial shock rather smoothly.

He had been down in the dumps for a short while as well, understandably… but then, from one day to the other, he had all of a sudden raised his head up high again and helped Princess Charlotte’s friends and employees out with running the hotel to the best of his abilities. I was flabbergasted to see him like that, briskly wandering around the hotel, talking to sinners, instructing the staff, doing all the things that the princess used to do with relative ease, like nothing bad had happened to him at all. Like his heart was not in shambles. Like his hope did not get smashed to pieces. Like all was still going to be fine.

How was that even possible?

“’Cause it IS going to be fine you silly willy,” Niffty happily told me one day, when she and I were busy sweeping and cleaning the entrance hall. The hotel was expecting an important visitor, or so I was told, so I had offered the little ladybug lady my assistance, which she had instantly accepted.

I was crouching on the ground with a dustpan and brush, nearby a small pile of dirt and dust, and looked at Niffty questioningly.

“You think it _is_ going to be fine with the princess and Alastor?”

“Yea!” she said, baring her sharp fangs in an odd, but not hostile fashion, and carried on dragging the broom – that was at least three times her size – around like it weighed nothing.

“Why is that?” I wanted to know. “You _are_ aware that there is a gigantic chance that – none of all this will end _happily_ , are you not? That the chance things will end well for Alastor is… practically just a foolish fantasy.”

“Oh ha ha yea I know _that_!”

“Then why—”

“’Cause Al still believes it’s going to be alright. You noticed as well right?? And if _he_ believes then so will I ha ha.” She leaned on her broom for a minute. “I’m just going to believe that everything’s going to be okay in the end. Nothing’s wrong with that right?”

“Even when it will _not_ be okay in the end?”

“If it’s not okay, it’s not the end,” Niffty easily stated.

That soundly shut me up.

Stupefied, I resumed performing my cleaning duties in silence, while Niffty put on her bright yellow headset and began dancing around the entrance hall rhythmically, swinging her broom around like it was a dance partner, smiling from ear to ear like there was nothing burdening her.

I envied Niffty for her impressive carefreeness.

I envied Alastor for his endless determination.

I envied _everybody_ who was able to live their afterlife relatively _happy_ , down here in Hell.

And yet, as I sat there on my knees, on the cold, sooty floor, covered in dust and cobwebs, I felt I was _smiling_. Something tugged on the corners on my mouth and for once, I did not fight nor question it.

I simply let it happen.

  
**III**

**  
**“Should… should I wait here with the vehicle, Your Cruel Highness?”

The imp servant that had helped me get out of the Royal Magnemobile (that was what my darling Luci liked to call it, and who was I to spoil his fun and call it something different than that) looked up at me, a mixture of fear, desire and a deep-rooted respect clearly visible in his dull eyes.

I still got it.

Obviously.

Observing my sweet apple beignet’s ambitious hotel-project right in front of me, I smiled phlegmatically. I then placed a hand on my robust, curvy hip, its naked, flawless skin peeping out of the silky material of my split dress, and shook my head at the gawking servant.

“No. You should return to the palace, if you please. I think it will be a while before I’m done here.”

He swallowed, squirming a little. “May I… may I be so bold to ask you what business you have at this _pathetic_ place, Milady?”

Oh my. I smiled a bit wider at the tiny demon and bowed myself seductively towards him. I made sure he had to do his best to try and _not_ stare at my well-endowed breasts almost pressing him in the sweaty face, and I put a single, thin finger underneath his quivering chin. I tenderly moved it up and down over his skin, nonchalantly drawing blood as my finger’s nail got less and less and even _less_ tender.

“No. You may not.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say that a cat is placed in a sealed box for one hour, together with a container of radioactive material, a small machine that detects chemical particles, a hammer and a container with deadly cyanide. There is a 50/50 chance that within one hour, a single radioactive particle will be emitted. If this doesn’t happen, then the hammer won’t drop. However, if the machine does record the particle, the hammer will drop, break open the container with cyanide and kill the cat. When you open the box afterwards, the cat will be dead or alive, depending on what happened. But prior to opening the box, the cat is both dead and alive.  
> You know why that it? It’s because nothing about matter is certain until you have observed it.
> 
> This is the thought process that is also known as the Copenhagen Interpretation of quantum physics. It claims that simply looking at all matter can change the outcome of what happens to it… but the Austrian-Irish physicist Erwin Schrödinger (1887-1961) found that so ridiculous, he made up this theoretical cat-experiment. The primary focus of the experiment is that prior to observation, the cat is both dead and alive, simultaneously. But would you really be able to somehow influence the cat’s fate if you spend an hour staring at that box, hoping to prevent a certain outcome? No you wouldn’t.  
> So while Schrödinger claims the Copenhagen Interpretation may be correct when it’s about smaller, singular particles of matter, he also believes it’s incorrect when it’s about larger objects, like – well – a cat.


	30. The Snow Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Sunday, it's my *~^birthday!^~* 8DDDDDDD While I was lucky last year (I managed to decently celebrate my birthday right before the Coronacrisis hit the world as hard as it did), this year's fesivities probably won't be as exuberant. 
> 
> **But!**
> 
> I have the luxury of having a couple of wonderful friends, like the amazing artist and [fanfic-writer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653417) [Frumpy](https://twitter.com/frumpy_furby), who not only send me the sweetest gifts straight from Poland, but also made a beautiful piece of art for my Library-fic! <3 <3 <3 It's absolutely amazing and you should check it [here](https://twitter.com/descendree/status/1357398666487693316)!^^
> 
> This week's chapter will be - darker than usual, I think. Something is about to happen...
> 
> Well! Enjoy the chapter! <3

Hardly had I taken a single step inside of the hotel, or I was greeted with the unusual sight of both Charlie’s ex- and current lover in the entrance hall (how very odd that Charlie kept both of them around and that they _weren’t_ trying to skewer each other’s brains to a pulp, by the way). They were complemented by a fair share of crooks, felons and ‘others’ my daughter had employed as her faithful hotel minions, and they all stared at me – attentively, expectantly.

It’s good to be the Queen.

Watching all of them cluttered together like this, I came to the conclusion that they definitely were a… _colorful_ group of sinners:

A cute, nervous-looking moth girl.

A smiling red waste of space.

A drunk cat.

A – _whatever_ that white-and-pink thing with eight eyes was trying to be.

An adorable little cyclops child.

A Hakim.

And that was all that—

–wait, a _spider_. Yes, that white-and-pink thing was a _spider person_ of some sorts, I suddenly came to realize, and I smiled contently to myself for knowing at least that much about Earth and it’s many bizarre critters and creatures.

Well _done_ , Lilith. And well done, Raphael: seemed like your silly crash courses on humanity were actually good for something after all. I better tell Charlie later, to prove to her I _do_ care (a bit) about the sinners in Hell – at least enough to vaguely recall what kind of disgusting animals they apparently are supposed to resemble... when put on the spot, that is.

But still. Small victories are _also_ victories.

I cradled my head in my hand as I observed the group of sinners surrounding me. So these amusing individuals made up Charlie’s dream team, didn’t they? What a perfect ragtag bunch of hopeless misfits and laughable oddballs.

I didn’t believe I had ever formally met them before, and I can’t say I was all that impressed by them… but I had to admit that there was a hint of unmistaken _solidarity_ emitting from them. It had ‘Charlie’ written all over it and it was an absolute _delight_ to experience: my darling daughter was such a good influence on these losers! I almost felt _proud_. 

However, speaking of misfits, oddballs and losers – there seemed to be one particular one missing here. A rather _important_ one, at that.

Charlie herself.

…

Note to self: better not call her all those things in front of her.

“Queen Lilith,” Alastor started, a tad too _vigorously_ if you’d ask me, “I’m so very glad you—”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t answer your social call sooner,” I brusquely cut the Radio Demon off, making sure he couldn’t utter another word. I then smiled at the spider man, who saw I had started taking off my coat, and he helpfully held out his hands at me. “Ah – thank you, dear dead criminal. Now, as I was saying, I apologize I couldn’t drop by sooner. It must have been terribly inconvenient. Trust me though: it has been a thorn in my flesh to only have been able to stop by Charlie’s establishment _now_.”

  
**III  
  
**

Sad but true: it had already been almost a week since Charlie’s former girlfriend had called me with the request to please come help them out.

I had felt a bit ashamed to tell her I couldn't come right away, no matter how much I had wanted to. I simply wasn't able to: lately, Lucifer and I were getting _swamped_ in all the work his freeloading brothers made us do.

Like he had said he would, Michael had been snooping around the Royal Palace and found out that Lucifer was _far_ behind on his governing administration. Believing that _that_ might have been one of the causes for Hell’s ridiculous overpopulation, the righteous Archangel had heavily scolded Lucifer and said he and the other two _wouldn't_ leave Hell, or at least not before _that_ bureaucratic mess had gotten sorted out.

Michael had promised to help him out, though, so Luci, who secretly-yet-not-so-secretly-at-all _enjoyed_ receiving all this attention from his usually-aloof older brother (even though most of it was just a load of critique), didn’t really have another choice but to actually do some ruling-work for a chance.

Meanwhile, Gabriel – who turned out to be a surprisingly eccentric and _annoying_ Angelic being that got bored at the drop of a hat – wanted to know more about Hell and it’s numerous ‘hot spots’. He even fervently encouraged me to join him and Luci’s other brothers, whenever they were about to visit more ‘fun places in the Underworld’.

‘Fun places in the Underworld’.

Like Hell, a haunted, dark place reeking of despair, hatred and tormented souls that couldn’t find any rest and suffered each and every day of their ghastly afterlife, all thanks to the dreadful misdeeds they did in life and the mind-numbing guilt that chased and tortured them, was some sort of an _amusement_ _park_.

Hell wasn’t an amusement park. It was **_eternal damnation._**

But Hell _did_ happen to have a couple of amusement parks. Luci had even built one himself and gleefully called it Lu Lu World, like a proud infant.

…I loved Lucifer _dearly_ , I _did,_ but sometimes, I just did not _get_ that man.

In any case – while Michael demanded Luci and I would do our actual jobs and Gabriel wanted us to have more ordinary, road-trippy fun, Raphael insisted we should also try to learn more about the sinners we reigned over. I hadn’t felt much excitement about that last bit in particular: I had never learned anything from all that had happened in my endless life and I was perfectly content with keeping it that way…

…until Luci’s blind brother ‘Raph’ kindly reminded the pillar right next to me that putting in some effort to get to know the criminals in Hell would probably mean a lot to our lovely daughter.

Knowing that Charlie hadn’t been in the highest of moods the last time she had said goodbye to me (which was quickly becoming something of a recurring phenomenon during most of our family gatherings), I had quickly agreed to Raphael’s preposition, and there you have it.

Lucifer and I were _working_ these days. Like _peasants_.

But not today.

Today, I was going to help my sweet apple beignet and her little hotel gremlins out. 

To be perfectly honest, since the explanation given to me on the phone was fairly… incoherent, I hadn’t understand what _exactly_ was going on at our old vacation home yet. But that was alright – I was going to find out soon enough, now wasn’t I? The most important thing was that I was at the hotel _today_ , like I had promised during that call, and I even arrived around the time I had told them I would.

See? I was being such a good mother right now, it was almost suspicious. But as long as I kept getting these unexpected, yet advantageous chances to reconnect to my estranged daughter, you could count on it that I’d shamelessly take and milk every opportunity to do so to the absolute _fullest_.

My daughter could count on me. Come what may.

…

Now let’s pray to my dear Luci’s neglectful father that I wouldn’t end up making everything even worse.

Surprisingly, I had the tendency to do so.

  
**III**

**  
**Anyhow.

Upon seeing that everybody in the chilly hall was still awkwardly standing around, gawking at me and steadfastly ignoring the obvious elephant in the room (even long _after_ I had stopped justifying why I hadn’t come to the hotel earlier), I chose to be the one to just voice my thoughts out loud at last.

“So… where is your manager? Where is my sweet Charlie?” I asked to no one specifically, and glanced around the entrance hall as I pulled my dark purple gloves over my fingers more tightly. “As quaint it is to see all of you sinners greeting me like the brave cretins you are, I had liked it if my darling apple beignet would have been a part of the welcoming committee, too. But I see she’s absent. And I haven’t heard the reason of why that is yet. Somebody care to elaborate?”

The sinners looked at each other, but nobody seemed to think that this was their turn to rise up to the occasion and speak up. Eventually however, Alastor gave his – colleague, I presume – a sudden nudge to the side, making the (already anxious) moth girl jump up and shriek in surprise.

“You heard the good woman, Vagatha: explain the situation to her. To be fair, I was of the opinion you had done so already, by the by...”

“Wha—but I—I _did_! I already _had_ — _”_

“You had,” I intercepted her with a sigh, already being irked, “but I’m afraid I couldn’t catch a word of what you said on the phone, dear. You… blabbered. Quite a lot.”

“Oh,” Vaggie mumbled, looking down dejectedly. "I'm sorry. I'm... no good on the phone."

"You can say that again. You even put _me_ to shame."

“Whoa, _whoa!_ Now that's just _cruel_ to say!" the spider man all of a sudden piped up. "Don’t be so hard on her, it's not like she fucking meant to flub!” 

Looking away from Vaggie, I blinked my eyes at him. “I know she didn’t mean to. Still doesn’t make it any less _bothersome,_ however. Her ‘flubbing’ literally prevented me from understanding what's going on here and why my presence was required – and I don’t want to be rash, but judging on the grim air and distraught expressions I see around me, the situation is rather _dire_. Had I known that beforehand, I might had tried to come sooner.” 

Did I explain myself well enough? I think I did. Chalk up another bonus point for Lilith.

The fazed spider demon didn’t have an argument to counter mine with at the ready and muttered a barely audible, halfhearted apology, while placing his hands on Vaggie’s shoulders and giving her a light squeeze.

Wasn’t Vaggie a proud, self-proclaimed lesbian?

Oh well.

I left the two - lovers? - and the rest of the more useless people in the entrance hall for what they were and turned to Alastor.

Ugh, _Alastor_.

Although I rather didn’t pay too much attention to Alastor (I was just getting so sick and _tired_ of this unpredictable man and his ridiculous shenanigans), it swiftly became clear to me that he probably was the only one present here who’d be capable of telling me just what was going on, _without_ being too impressed by everything that I was.

“You there,” I therefore pointed at him, before the deer man could open up his yap. “Current weird object of my daughter’s affections. Will you tell me what is going on and where Charlie is?”

I saw his mismatched eyes seeking contact with those of Vaggie and the cat man, strangely enough – a quick, fleeting moment of uncertainty. The second the other two sinners gave him a resigned nod back however, a toothy, fake grin spread over the entirety of Alastor’s face, as he made a small curtesy, followed by a grandiose gesture with his arm towards the large staircase in the entrance hall.

“Well, Your Highness, why don’t I simply guide you to where your daughter is? We can talk about everything that has happened on the way, if that is what Your Majesty wishes.”

“That is indeed what This Majesty wishes,” I dryly said, and instantly started walking, almost waltzing over Alastor in the process. “Show me the way, Radio Demon. And _do_ tell me _everything_.”

  
**III**

**  
**Dead or not, Alastor was still a very skilled radio host who knew all about catchy phrases, idioms and sayings – and I was very much aware he liked to play and juggle around with words and sentences as if the act of smooth-talking was a set code in his personal DNA, unable to break or erase.

So even though the stroll to Charlie’s bedroom was, as far as I remembered from a prior visit, a fairly short one, Alastor had no problem effortlessly explaining to me what had happened in the manor – really, I already was up to date about everything that had been said and done in the past week(s) before we had even reached the right floor and hallway.

“I see,” I announced after he was done throwing light on the gloomy situation, “so thanks to our mutual friend Hakim, Charlie ultimately found out about that insane plan of yours.”

“She did,” he said, without the usual, bombastic tone in his voice.

“A shame she didn’t hear about your zany Heaven-scheme from _you_ , though.”

“No worries, Queen Lilith: I still intend to give Charlie the only true interpretation of my plan: _my_ interpretation. And nobody else’s. As… soon as Charlie’s ready to _let_ me explain it to her, naturally.”

“Hm-hm. She _is_ rather mad at you. She even lashed out at you, seems like.” I gave him a look, my gaze resting on the almost-healed scratch on his face. “Figuratively… and quite _literally_. How _refreshing_.”

He let out a unconvincing laugh and briefly touched his cheek. “Oh! So you noticed, ha ha.”

“You said Charlie’s appearances changed drastically, the last time you saw her,” I continued, without wasting my breath on replying to his comment. “Let me guess: she got red-and-yellow eyes, there were horns coming out of her head… and I’m willing to bet her height increased, her voice grew deeper and her entire person suddenly got engulfed in fire and flames. Right? Burning everything that stood in her path to a crisp, before she fled to her bedroom. Was it something like that?”

Alastor was amazed. “ _Exactly_ like that!”

“Then her usually dormant, demonic side has come out indeed.” I sighed, putting a hand on my face. “Ah… it’s been a while. Mmm, yes. My dear daughter has such a mesmerizingly _dark_ side to her usual happy-go-lucky, sunny disposition. Don’t you agree? While it’s a different kind of beauty from her more angelic looks, I’m positive Charlie must have looked _gorgeous_ to you like that. So _strong._ So _relentless._ ”

“So _crestfallen_.”

My hand dropped from my face and I shot a glare at him, but Alastor didn’t look my way. He kept his shoulders and back straight and his giant smile didn’t budge as we made our way through the corridor – though he couldn’t conceal it from me. I had already heard it in the timbre of his otherwise so very carefully and nonchalantly-spoken remark.

His obvious worry. His agonizing helplessness. And his sheer _annoyance_ about the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it.

Alastor was in quite the pickle, wasn’t he? 

I clicked my tongue condescendingly. “Well well. So you _don’t_ like this part of her, Alastor? _You_ , the brutal serial killer that looks like a demonic monstrosity himself, prefer the _innocent_ Charlie? How strange – most demons and sinner people I know seem to prefer the current Charlie over the sweeter one. Not that it makes any difference: just like most creatures have to accept that Charlie is a genuinely _kind_ girl by default, _you_ will have to deal with _this_ side of her rearing its frightful head every now and then. She may have been unfortunate enough to inherit most of Lucifer’s Heavenly genes when she was born in Hell, but that doesn’t mean that her mother’s wicked blood can’t act up. You know. Whenever Charlie gets _provoked_ one too many times.” 

“I understand,” Alastor calmly said.

“Don’t let her usual easy-going and carefree demeanor fool you, Alastor. My daughter has imperfections, just like every other living being has them. She has secret desires. Harrowing regrets. Frustrations _–_ oh, _so_ many frustrations. And then I’m not even talking about all she had to do in the past yet. Events she can’t erase and is still struggling with. These, all of the things I just listed – these are all part of your lovely, flawed Charlie _as well_ , Alastor.”

A cold smile twisted itself on my lips.

“How _sadistic_ of you to actively _reject_ that darker side of her.”

“Ho ho, that’s rich, I don’t recall telling you I reject Charlie’s darker side. Just like I don’t think I ever told you about which side of Charlie I prefer in the first place. I wonder why that is? Let me think about it.” Alastor comically rubbed his chin for the added special effect. “Oh! That’s right: it’s because I _didn’t_ tell you.”

I sneered at him. “Are you stating you _don’t_ wish a specific part of her was in control all the time?”

“My good Queen, I couldn’t care less about whatever part of Charlie is in control, as long as she’s _happy_.” Alastor finally met my gaze. “And she _isn’t_ happy right now.”

I didn’t react; I just watched him.

He went on: “Charlie’s not happy right now, and that malignant spirit she has taken the form of is the direct proof and result of that. So if her truly ‘bad’ side is only shown at times like _these_ , when she feels like _this_ – then no, Lilith. I _don’t_ wish this part of her to take over control. It would only reduce her to this – this deeply unhappy, _tragic_ demon.”

Unhappy, tragic demon, hmm? My my. I smiled a little at him. Now _that_ were some interesting terms to describe Charlie in her current form. Very original. I don’t think I had ever heard any of her former lovers in this last stage of their doomed relationship talk about her like that.

But just like them, Alastor did seem to have conveniently forgotten **_what kind of demon_** Charlie was right now, making him not that much different from the other lamentable guys and girls she had been with after all.

I had been a fool to think he could have been ‘the one’ for her.

“You’re to blame for all that horribleness she is going through right now,” I helpfully pointed out to him nevertheless. “You realize this, don’t you?”

He gave a curt nod with his head. “I acknowledge that – and I hereby pledge to make it better. But I don’t know _how_. Not as long as Charlie refuses to come out of her room and hear me out. She needs to calm down, first, before I can even think about a possible solution to the existing status-quo... and that’s where _you_ come in, Lilith. You _do_ know this side of her. You _have_ seen it before. Am I right?”

“Yes,” I said.

We had arrived at Charlie’s bedroom door – and I had to do a double take after taking a gander at the black portal in front of us. Seeing the state of her room’s entrance was in… it _astonished_ me, really. There were even cracks in the cracks! I slowly bit my plump, lower lip while I studied the vile aftermath of Charlie’s outburst. Good lord, my poor, hurt apple beignet most certainly was _upset_ , _that_ much was a fact…

Interesting. _Very_ interesting.

“So you’ve seen it before? _Marvelous_!”

Ugh. Alastor’s annoying rambling brought me back to the here and now, and I tore my eyes away from the door to grant him one exasperated look.

“Yes, Alastor: I _have_ seen her other side. I have seen _all_ of her. I’m her _mother_ , after all.”

“Then you know what must be done to – undo this. What _I_ must do to undo this. To make her listen to me,” he immediately carried on.

“I have a hunch,” I admitted. “You won’t like it, though. _Especially_ not you.”

“Oh, I don’t mind!” Alastor got so overcome with hope and excitement, he almost began to laugh out loud. He put a hand to his chest and heaved in and out a few times, restraining himself. “Sorry for that. But I knew it. I _knew_ that there was a way – I simply knew that there _had_ to be a way to end this. Thank you, Your Highness. For – well, everything. That reminds me, I… don’t think I even thanked you for everything you have done for me in the past, in spite of—”

“When was the last time you had sex with her?” I impatiently interrupted him. I had no need for gratefulness that was long time overdue – right now, I only wished to see my distressed daughter and get a good reading on the state of affairs. I wanted to determine how I could help her out, based on all the information I had been provided with.

My abrupt, unabashed, sex-related question stopped Alastor dead in all of his tracks, of course. Slowly, a dark, embarrassed shade of red appeared on his face, letting me just how much the sudden inquiry had thrown the prudish man off guard.

“Why is _that_ important for you to know?” he asked.

“It just is. Believe me. Now tell me: when was the last time you slept with her?” I pressed on.

“At the party you and Lucifer organized,” he said, looking a tad flustered.

“But that has been almost _two_ _weeks_ ago.” I stared at him, realized something and felt my jaw drop a little. “So – after the party, you both went back to the hotel, Charlie found out about your lies a few days later and she subsequently sealed herself away. But does that mean you two _didn’t_ have sex since then? Not even a little bit?”

“What a _ridiculous_ question.” Alastor seemed both irritated as well as confused. “Of course _not_. Not even ‘a little bit’, no. In case you weren’t aware, Lilith, it’s quite difficult for me to have intercourse with Charlie when A: she's _very_ mad at me, and B: there's a locked door in-between the two of us. Besides, sex has most likely been the _last_ thing on Charlie’s mind in the past week.”

“On her mind? Oh, you’re probably right about that,” I mused, as I moved myself to stand directly in front of the bedroom’s door. “However, I’m not talking about her mind here.”

For the first time, I saw the sparkle of his smile disappear almost completely. It dimmed, like a weak firework in a too brightly-lit sky, only leaving behind a hint of its original flare.

“What _are_ you talking about, then?” he wanted to know.

“I’ll explain later,” I promised him. “For now, you must take your leave. I think I’ll be able to talk to Charlie – I can hear she’s awake and rummaging behind that door – but I’m positive she won’t open the door as long as you’re hovering and pacing around here, like some expectant father-to-be. So go away. Shoo _,_ shoo – off you go.”

“No.” Alastor ignored my swatting hand-movements and looked at the door. “No. You must understand, I – want to see her. I need to see her. Even if it’s just a meager glimpse. I haven’t seen her in days and I miss her. I miss her so _much_.”

I didn’t say a word as I watched the mask come off even more.

“Every day that passes is another day I can’t be with her – a day _lost_. I can’t afford to lose any more days of not-seeing her, Lilith. Everything is slipping through my fingers and she’s not there. She’s not there. She’s not _there_. And it _pains_ me. It rips me apart, little by little. I don’t know how long I can hold on like this. I don’t know _how_ to hold on like this. Not without her by my side. Not without her holding my hand until the bitter end. Not without her.”

In all fairness, it was quite disturbing to, so very abruptly and randomly, see the calm and collected Radio Demon break character like that – his posture tense and rigid, his black hands clenched to shaking fists, his face no longer wearing a smile, but a paralyzed _glower_. It was a grim reminder to me that even a professional and expert liar and fraud like Alastor had a breaking point.

I felt a bit sorry for him. Truly, I did.

But it was too late. I couldn’t help him anymore. I couldn’t save him anymore.

“Go downstairs,” I told him.

“No.”

“ _Alastor_.”

“Please.”

“It’s no use. You know she won’t open the door otherwise.”

“But I need—”

“She doesn’t need _you_.” I stared icily at him. “Not _yet_. She needs _me_. Now _go_ , before I _make_ you go.”

Alastor’s face forcibly cracked open, split into a ‘smile’ again and he gave me a resentful half-scowl, his aura rapidly clouding. Eerie, shrill radio noises clogged up the air as quivering, strange symbols circled around him. It was a frightening look for him – probably one of his most diabolical, I’m sure, and observing such a maniacal, high-strung creature would have been very threatening and bone-chilling… had he faced anybody other than me – or Lucifer, for all that matters.

But I had seen my fair share of rage and hate. To me, this was neither rage nor hate.

This was just _sad_.

A whole minute passed, and although I feared I might indeed needed to actually use violence to get Alastor to leave (ugh, such a _tedious_ thing to do), he fortunately decided to not make things more troublesome than they already were by suddenly snapping his fingers and disappearing in a black fog of dark magic, the sound of the loud, yet disheartening _click_ echoing through the corridors long after he had left. 

Alright – at last that was over and done with. I sighed, fixed my hair a bit and turned on my heels, bringing my hand to Charlie’s bedroom door.

“Charlie?” I started as I knocked my knuckles against the hard, pitch-black material of the door. “It’s alright, my child. It’s all going to be alright. Mother is here.”

There wasn’t a response at first, and I was about to knock again when I heard a small voice on the other side of the door.

“…mom?”

It was raw, barely audible and smothered by heartache.

“It’s me, yes.” I smiled and splayed my fingers against the bedroom’s entryway tenderly. “I’m here to help, my sweet little apple beignet. Will you unlock the door for me?”

A strange, strangled, sobbing sound was the sole reply I got. For a moment, I found myself faintly wondering just how much she had heard of Alastor’s pathetic whining just now. But then the door was unlocked with a hesitant, bordering on _gentle_ clack, and when it swung open at last, I suddenly had better, more important matters to focus on.

  
**DdD**

**  
**So Charlie had this badminton court installed in the hotel’s backyard.

…yeah just stay with me here, I promise it’s going somewhere. 

So, uh, according to one of Charlie’s fucking _boring_ seminars, playing sports was a great way to blow off steam and shit. She had said that it was way better to let out all that crawling frustration hidden deep within us on the sports fields, than to let it fester on and on, until one just _had_ to sock some unlucky fool in the kisser.

Therefore she had decided to get a badminton court.

Not a basketball court. Not a soccer field. Not even a tennis court, no – a _badminton court_.

Why a fucking _badminton_ _court_ of all possible things, I had asked Charlie after that seminar, and she had just grinned sheepishly at me and responded “I like badminton!”.

Hell’s next ruler-in-line, ladies and gentlemen. Such a fucking dumb – _goofball_.

Anyways, as I was saying…

After Queen Evil Big Jugs and Alastor had skedaddled to upstairs and left the rest of us hotel residents and staff members behind, Vaggie was in a pretty bad shape. She couldn’t really deal with Lilith being such a critical bitch, especially since the Queen had low-key been right about Vags messing up the phone call – so I decided to take her outside, to the badminton court, and play a game with her for a bit. You know, to get her mind off things.

Yeah I know the situation probably wasn’t the _best_ for smacking a shuttlecock (heh heh, shuttlecock – _nice_ ) back and forth, but for the love of crap – it wasn’t like we could do much anyway! All of the people in charge of the hotel were busy or otherwise unavailable right now: Charlie was still being an edgy recluse, Alastor had to play Mr. Tour Guide for Lilith and Vaggie was too stressed out to do anything at all, so yeah, you bet your fucking face I was going to play some fucking goofy badminton!

And believe it or not, it actually helped: while Vaggie didn’t necessarily cheer up, she at least started functioning again and even yelled the most horrible profanities at me as my lame serves let her sprint all over the court.

“Those be the cons of being a short little _bitch_ with short little _bitch legs_ ,” I had mockingly told her, “yer gonna lose to people longer than you!” – and that was all it took to have Vags raging and running again, trying her hardest to prove me wrong.

So fucking _adorable_ , holy _shit_! Look at her, all angry and fired up and stomping on her racket every time she missed a hit (probably not at _all_ like Charlie had wanted her to vent her inner annoyances)! Fucking _cute_!

But yeah – that’s what we did while Alastor was informing Charlie’s MILF about – uhh, _everything_. Just playing badminton and attempting to make the best out of the current situation.

Since I was having more fun than expected, I even found myself thinking that I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the afternoon like this, with only me and Vags, screaming at each other while chasing after a magnificently named badminton thingy. But at a certain moment, Alastor suddenly fucking _manifested_ himself _right_ in the middle of the badminton court and almost got hit in the face by a speedy cock.

Goddammit – I didn’t care both Vaggie and Alastor gave me funny looks as I toppled over and wheezed, that was one _glorious_ sentence that crossed my mind and you couldn’t convince me otherwise.

“Alastor?” I heard Vaggie stammer at last, while I was still snorting. “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

“Well _hello_ Vagatha, Anthony! So here you are!” Alastor’s distorted voice was _wayyyy_ higher than it usually was and his face looked like he was about to fucking _shank_ a bitch, so that sure as hell helped me with stopping my fit of laughter – I almost even fucking choked in my giggles.

“I see you two lovebirds are making good usage of the badminton court! How _wonderful_!”

Vaggie and I exchanged looks, before I gave him a cautious nod. “Yyyea. Hey, uhh… you okay, smiles?”

“No!” He laughed. It sounded more like he was _wailing_ , though. “Oh ho, I’m most **_certainly_ not ‘okay’**!”

“What happened? Where’s Lilith – how Charlie?” Vaggie burst out, her stress-level obviously rising steadily again – but I quickly walked over to her, shushed her and made Alastor focus on me instead.

“So, uhh, you wanna play a game, Al?”

He shook his head so fast it almost made a complete 360-degree turn a couple of times. “That’s a very temping offer, my good fellow – but I rather want to **whack things to a bloody pulp** right now. So! Unless you wish to _be_ one of those things, I suggest you and your ladyfriend step back and **let me be**.”

Vaggie tried to say something. “But Charlie – what about Cha—”

“Oh we will _definitely_ let ya be, my man – _smack_ away!” I said – and I promptly tucked a flabbergasted Vags under my arm, bolting off the court as quickly as I could while Alastor snatched up a racket.

  
**DdD**

**  
**The first half hour, Vaggie and I stood and watched from the sidelines as Alastor sent all the shuttles his kinky black tentacles threw at him flying. They all fucking _hurled_ through the air like feathery, burning _bullets_ and I’m sure a couple of them must have swatted some poor flying sinners _straight_ out of the air.

It wasn’t a pretty sight, and in all honesty, it was kind of uncomfortable to witness Alastor’s brutal, personal vendetta against every poor shuttlecock that was ever produced in Hell from up close. But Vaggie, who had calmed down again, told me that she didn’t want us to leave him on his own in this downright _destructive_ mood he seemed to be in.

“I’m not sure yet what happened, but I _am_ sure he came to us in order to prevent himself from going on an _actual_ rampage,” she said, folding her arms. “So let’s just… stand by and wait for him to come back to his senses. I still want some answers after all.”

“He’s not doin’ rampages anymore?” I asked, now _without_ looking away from the scene in front of me, and I winced as one shuttlecock was effectively _blown_ _to_ _pieces_ when Alastor’s magically enlarged racket hit it like a fucking _shredder_. Whoa, imagine if that was an _actual_ cock.

Holy _fuck_.

Maybe _not_ imagine that.

Vags shrugged. “Well Charlie wouldn’t like Alastor going on a murderous spree. He’s probably not taking any chances.”

“What _chances_ – the sucker is _out_ of fucking chances. And yet, here he is, still grasping. Even at a time like this.” I groaned. “ _Damn_.”

Vaggie nodded at that, sighing softly. Then she gently pulled on my hem.

“This might take some time. Let’s sit down for a bit, Angel.”

I took her hand. “Alright.”

  
**DdD**

**  
**Eventually, after like an hour or so (I’m not kidding, the distressed dude was smashing away at shuttles for _an entire hour in total_ ), Alastor had finally eliminated enough innocent objects to his liking – and he was panting heavily as he flung the demolished racket on the sports field. It had been abused so much for the past hour, I was almost surprised that it didn’t blow up in a giant explosion when it landed on the ground at last.

I perked up upon seeing him look around and setting his stare on me and Vags, and even though I wasn’t certain whether or not this was the right thing to do, I ended up calling out to him anyway.

“Yo, Al! C’mere!”

He did so, his movements kind of sluggish and uneven as he approached the uncomfortable bench me and Vags were sitting on. I could hear he was still catching his breath.

“You done wrecking shit?” Vaggie bluntly asked him.

He nodded stiffly. “For now.”

“Good.”

An awkward pause followed.

Oh _shit_ , awkward pauses – my mortal enemy.

“Uhhh… good show, smiles!” I therefore said before I could stop myself, giving Alastor two nonsensical thumbs-ups. “Ya sure showed _those_ soft cocks who’s the pimping boss!”

“Thank you.” Alastor blinked tiredly. “I suppose.”

Well that was disappointing.

I confidentially looked over to Vaggie, hoping her reaction would be a bit less lukewarm, but the moth girl just shook her head at me and scooted over, making more room on the bench for Al to sit on. I wanted to tell her that there was no way in the nine circles of Hell Alastor would allow _anybody_ (except for Charlie) to sit on the same bank as he did, but I was proven wrong when the Radio Demon indeed sat down. Huh, I guess he really _was_ out of it.

…he still made sure there was plenty of room in-between him and the two of us, though.

“Alright,” Vaggie said, breathing in. “Now that you’re done with… whatever the fuck _that_ shitstorm was, care to tell us what the Queen and Charlie are up to, and what has happened?”

“I will,” Alastor simply said, too burned out to put up a fight against her – and that was just what he did.

  
**VvV**   
  


The more Alastor told me and Angel about his exchange with Queen Lilith, the more restless I became.

Ever since Alastor and Charlie had become a couple, there had been this… small, worrisome seed planted inside of my chest. It had grown steadily in the beginning, temporarily stagnated in its growth after I had learned Alastor had actually managed to deal with _it_ in a pretty logical way… and it had once again began to continue its development, ever since Charlie had become more stressed out and frustrated with everything he had kept secret from her.

Stupidly enough, even with my experience and knowledge, I – didn’t make the connection at first. There was no way that there was an actual link between those two things, I had kept telling myself. Not with _them_. Not like _that._ I had briefly wondered about it, back the in the hallway, when I had been about to finally tell Alastor about it… but he had distracted me, and I ended up forgetting to tell him anyway.

Maybe I didn't really 'forget', though. Maybe I had secretly hoped that I didn’t _have_ to tell him about that. That Charlie would have told him about it already, or, even _better_ , that it was something that didn’t needed to be explained, since it just wouldn’t happen with him and Charlie. Because, you know, they seemed to have a very strong, even _healthy_ relationship going on. Well… minus the _lies_ , of course.

But the second Alastor mentioned Lilith had asked him about the last time he and Charlie had sex with one another, there no longer was any doubt left in my mind.

Oh fuck. It really was going to end like _that_ , wasn’t it?

Fuck. Fucking _fuck_.

“Vags?”

Angel Dust’s concerned voice pulled me out of my dazed state of mind, and I raised my head up, my teeth grinded together.

He frowned at me. “What's got ya this quiet all of a sudden, babe? Ain’t ya got anything to say to smiles here?”

Instead of answering him, I looked at Alastor. The Radio Demon returned my stare, and I saw both his eyes increasing a little in size – I saw that _he_ saw it, the thing that I had been vaguely warning him about from the start, but never bothered to really explain to him.

Charlie’s secret. 

“Alastor,” I breathed out, while his awaiting gaze almost pierced a hole through me, “I think… I think I have to tell you something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Devil and his minions attempt to carry his magical mirror into Heaven, but it slips from their grasp, falling down to Earth and shattering into a billion tiny pieces. The splinters are blown all over Earth and people get it into their eyes and hearts, freezing their hearts and making their eyes only see the bad and ugly in people and things.  
> Cut to Kai and Gerda, two friends who live next door of one another. They always listen to the tales Gerda’s grandmother tells them about the Snow Queen, a being that rules over the ‘Snow Bees’ (snowflakes that look like bees).  
> One day, Kai gets a splinter of the shattered mirror into his heart and eyes. He instantly becomes cruel, aggressive and uncaring, and the only things that are still good to him are the snowflakes he sees through a magnifying glass. The following winter, Kai mysteriously disappears, and Gerda goes to look for him. After many trials, tribulations and detours, Gerda discovers that Kai is being held at the Snow Queen’s palace. A Finn woman Gerda meets on her travels tells her that Gerda can save her friend, because her love for him is ‘sweet and innocent’, and therefore the greatest power there is. But! If she fails to save Kai, the boy is lost forever.  
> Finally, Gerda manages to get to the Snow Queen’s castle and finds Kai on a frozen lake, almost immobile. Not hesitating for even a split-second, Gerda runs up to her friend and kisses him, and the boy is saved by the power of her love, her warm tears of joy melting his frozen heart. Kai starts to cry as well, dislodging the splinter from his eyes, and he becomes cheerful and healthy again. They reunite with the friends and helpers Gerda met during her travels and in the end, they return home safe and sound. 
> 
> Hans Christian Andersen’s longest and most critically acclaimed story is usually divided into seven separate stories, all describing Gerda’s great adventure as she attempts to save her childhood friend. The Snow Queen herself was allegedly modeled after Jenny Lind (1820-1887), a Swedish opera singer Andersen fell in love with – and who rather _frostily_ rejected him!


	31. One Thousand And One Arabian Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning: this chapter will have mentions of/discussions about (past) mutual non-con!**
> 
> Before I'll tell you something about the chapter, let me thank some of the most amazing and wonderful people/artists, who made sure my birthday last Sunday was an absolute BLAST:
> 
> The wonderful [Chisena](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt), who made [this](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1360866137676816387) and [this](https://twitter.com/ChisenaArt/status/1360865487140233218)!  
> The amazing [OkamiRyuu](https://twitter.com/OkamiRyuu1993), who made [this](https://twitter.com/OkamiRyuu1993/status/1360931880711954432)!  
> The lovely [Krem](https://twitter.com/KremGoblin95), who made [this](https://twitter.com/KremGoblin95/status/1361036552848171012)!  
> And the charming [Charlotte](https://twitter.com/Loonette3), who made [this](https://twitter.com/Loonette3/status/1361149804148047879)!
> 
> Thank you (and many, many more people that wished me a happy birthday!) so much for your gifts/arts!! They made me very happy! 8DDDDDDDD
> 
> This chapter will be a long and important one. Certain themes will be discussed and long-kept secrets are going to be revealed at last. It will be tough and uncomfortable at times, maybe - but in the end, it will be worth the ride. At least, I think so!^^
> 
> Enjoy!

Back when we were still in a relationship, Charlie told me her secret herself, shortly after a verbal argument between the two of us had gotten out of hand.

Even though it hadn’t been _that_ long since it happened, I couldn’t remember for the life of me what the idiotic fight was even about anymore. All I could recall was me, shouting at Charlie and blaming her for... _something_ that had happened, and Charlie, snapping back at me _way_ more venomously than she usually (if _ever_ ) did. She was… pretty scary, I had to admit: her looks had morphed, making her appear distorted – not as much as she did with Alastor, but still enough for me to swallow my words and take a step back from her.

Charlie had noticed my fear and calmed down almost immediately, before clasping my hands in-between hers and stammering that she was sorry, that it was all her fault and that we shouldn’t fight. Things could _happen_ if we did, after all. _Bad_ things. Things she’d immensely regret later and that would mean the end of her and me.

I wanted to know what she was talking about, of course, and since I got her cornered – she was the one who had started talking about it after all – Charlie reluctantly told me about what always happened to her, once she got into a particular bad lovers’ spat. She also said it often was a direct result of her, no longer being able to suppress her pent-up frustrations, combined with an ongoing shortage of sex – or just plain _dissatisfaction_ with the sex presented to her.

To put it simply: if Charlie grew more and more displeased with her ongoing relationship, in _multiple_ ways, chances were that her succubus-side would eventually take over control.

And her succubus-side (a _stunning_ , yet intense, brash and dangerous enchantress that had enough power within her to destroy everything within a two mile radius around her) would _stay_ in control, unless her lover at that moment would (pretty literally) offer themselves to her and let her have her way with them, until she was satisfied – until all of Charlie’s anger, worries and irritations were (again, pretty literally) screwed out of her.

This had always ended up in Charlie’s partner getting _so_ traumatized by the event that their memory had to be erased, therefore instantly terminating their relationship with Charlie. It apparently didn’t matter if the partner was willing to partake in the intercourse or not – she just was _too much_ for them to handle, even if her lover was a very sexually active person.

To make things even worse, this fucked-up sex ritual _had_ to be done with the person she was enamored with at that moment. That’s what made her different from her mother and the other incubi and succubi in Hell: Charlie actually had _standards_. She couldn’t get her satisfaction by anybody else, once she was in that… condition. It _had_ to be _that_ _one_ person. 

Was that the result of her own morals, not wanting to cheat on her partner, or was it the result of her father’s ‘pure’, angelic genes, having some sort of influence over her even in that demonic state of mind? She didn’t know. But it was an extremely _cruel_ experience for her nonetheless: not only did Charlie lose her lover at the end of it all, but she also wound up as the _only_ one remembering the relationship in the first place.

And to top it all off: whenever her relationship escalated like this, Charlie was convinced it was all _her_ fault to start with – because _she_ had been the part-succubus that had lost control over herself. The one to eventually ruin it all.

It was pretty damn depressing.

Thank god this phenomenon hadn’t happened too often, according to Charlie: while most of her relationships had ended rather awfully, with her partner cheating on her or losing interest in her (her scummy partners were all from _Hell_ after all), only a few of them had ended downright _dramatically_ , with an exhausting night of non-stop sex that neither one of the two participants had actually really aspired to have.

It had been a while since the last time it had occurred, Charlie told me that day, as I took all of this information in and tried to place it. She had gotten better at controlling that demonic side of hers – but she also admitted that this didn’t mean it _wouldn’t_ happen anymore. If a lover pushed her too far and/or didn’t meet her sexual standards, she _would_ ‘snap’ – end of story, end of relationship. However, she promised she’d do all she could to prevent herself from reaching that ultimate breaking point.

I… remember Charlie looking… very _relieved_ after she had told me all of this. Like a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She actually had never told one of her former lovers about this condition of hers before, and she happily informed me that this probably meant that she really trusted me. That she felt at ease and comfortable with me as her partner – enough to be open about her darker side with me.

We broke up two months after this confession.

Look, I – I _know_ , okay? I know how bad this sounds, but it’s just… this secret made me look at Charlie with different eyes. Suddenly, arguing with her was like tossing a ticking time bomb back and forth, and I grew more distant towards her. I – got more _annoyed_ with her as well, since I felt I couldn’t decently vent my frustrations to her anymore, without having to fear what could possibly happen if things went wrong. We both tried to make the best of it anyway, I think, but we subconsciously knew it wasn’t going to end well – and when Charlie timidly told me she thought we should break up and stay friends instead, it felt like a bittersweet kind of freedom.

Then _Alastor_ happened, even _more_ than he already _was_ happening after the fucking shitlord had shamelessly put one foot inside of Charlie’s hotel, and I couldn’t do anything but helplessly look on. Look on and watch how that asshole slithered into her library and into her heart, winning her over with smooth words and old books, and _god,_ all that _charm_ he oozed, all that _attention_ he gave her, all those little bits of _affections_ he showered Charlie with – I mean, yeah, I would rather die in a fucking dumpster fire than even _think_ about dating him, but knowing Charlie, it was no wonder she fell _hard_ for Alastor.

Alastor was asexual, however. He was able to fall in love with someone, sure, but he was still _very_ much asexual, which could complicate stuff. Furthermore, he was a giant douchebag with his own rules, secrets and agenda. All signs that there was a very high chance things _wouldn’t_ turn out all that… _great_.

I knew this. Charlie knew this as well. Still, she did her best to make it work, like _he_ was doing, too: they both made sacrifices for one another. And for quite some time, it actually seemed like it was going to be _okay_ , that they could be perfectly happy together. But in the end…

In the end, it looked like it would just – _end_.

Just as horribly as I had feared it would.

  
**VvV**

**  
** “Now why would you say that?”

Alastor, who had been carefully listening to me without interrupting me even once this entire time (fucking call the newspapers for _that_ scoop), gave me a critical side-eye. Like I had said something incredibly stupid.

“What?” I grunted in response – harsher than I had meant to, because his shockingly casual remark threw me off.

“Why would you say that this is the end for Charlie and me?” he elaborated. “I don’t think it’s the end for us at all.”

While Angel Dust started to snicker, I felt I was rapidly getting really annoyed with the Radio Dipshit.

 _This_ fucking guy. Was he for _real_?

My own eye glared back at Alastor just as arrogantly as his own did. No, even _more_ arrogantly. “What – so you think you _can_ keep up with her? _You_ , the asexual _punk_ with just _one_ tapped-ass to his name? You think you can just waltz your thin ass in there, let Charlie slam you onto the bed and fuck you senseless _without_ ending up fucking _scarred_ and _damaged in the brain_?”

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Alastor said.

“Well then I have to call _bullsh_ —oh.” I blinked and frowned at the same time. “Oh. Uh. You _don’t_ , huh? Good.”

He shook his head. “While I believe my sexuality has _very_ little to do with the current situation – and _please_ stop dragging that into this and deciding on that label alone what sexual intercourse must mean to me, thank you very much – l indeed don’t think I’ll be able to… _endure_ such a tumultuous night. Most of all because it doesn’t sound like it’s something Charlie _herself_ wants.”

“‘Cause it _isn’t_ ,” Angel suddenly put his two cents in, as he gazed over the badminton court. “Ain’t that kinda what you said just now, Vags? I don’t know the gist of it and I sure as fuck don’t know what Charlie’s kinky alter ego is capable of, but I’m pretty damn sure Charlie doesn’t even _wanna_ have sex with the suckers she’s mad at, once she gets all freaky and shit. It’s just something she _has_ to do, ‘cause of – things she has no power over. Rules she just… _needs_ to follow, like it or not. Or _else._ Something like that.”

Feeling a pang in my chest, I looked at Angel Dust and wanted to say something nice and uplifting to him. But he didn’t bother to look back. He was too occupied with aloofly studying his nails and acting bored.

“Well,” Alastor easily said. “That sounds a lot like rape. Mutual rape, even.”

Hell or no hell – rape was a special kind of evil, even in the doomed Underworld we were stuck in, and although Angel simply shrugged, like the loaded word would just glide off of him like a splash of muddy water, I couldn’t help but flinch.

“Don’t – don’t call it that.”

“But it _is_.” Alastor gave me a defying glance. “You’re stating that getting Charlie out of her involuntary rut means engaging in long-lasting, tiresome and non-consensual sexual contact with her – something neither she, nor her lover would actively _desire_ to do at that moment. Isn’t that so?”

I just nodded, squeezing my arm.

“Well. Then it’s no wonder all of those particular former relationships of hers ended as disastrously as they did. After all, who would want to stay with their partner after said partner had ruthlessly breached and defiled their trust like that? I most certainly wouldn’t.”

Alastor then folded his fingers together, _cracked_ their joints _violently_ and rose up from the metallic bench, his mug somehow sporting a big, broad and pestering grin when he saw me and Angel Dust shudder and make weird faces at him in return.

“Oh my, did that popping sound disturb you? Ha ha! Oh well! Now if you two lovely insects will excuse me – if Vaggie’s right about Charlie’s secret being the key to a possible solution to our problem, I think I know what I should do next!”

“Yea: take up a damn book on _bugs_ and look up that rookie mistake ya made there,” Angel Dust countered, winking smugly at me with seven of his eight spider eyes – but I had other things on my mind than responding to his painfully _lame_ shot at flirting, and hastily jumped off the bench, grabbing hold of Alastor’s raggedy coat before he could poof himself away.

“Wait! What _are_ you going to do next? You’re… you’re not going to bail out on us, are you?” I stared at him. “I-I get that offering yourself to Charlie is out of the question, but… you’re not going to _run away_ now _,_ right?”

Alastor’s glowering eyes rested upon me for a moment. “Oh? I never said I _wouldn’t_ offer myself to Charlie.”

“But – what…?”

“For starters though, I’ll go see what our dear Queen Lilith is up to. Also, don’t touch me, dear. I dry-cleaned this coat just yesterday and your sweaty little hands are making a mess of it.”

“ _Fuck_ you!” I instinctively spat at him. 

“Oh my! We’ll see about that!” Alastor laughed heartily, swiftly pulled his coat’s hem out of my hands, dusted himself off and within the next moment, he disappeared with a resounding gust of magical smoke.

  
**AaA  
  
**

Although I was one of the very _last_ persons in Hell to claim he knew Queen Lilith at _all_ , I was certain nobody would disagree with me if I said that she wasn’t one to leisurely wander around the hotel, once her little heart-to-heart-talk with her daughter had ended. I also heavily, _heavily_ suspected that Lucifer’s cunning, yet lazy succubus wife wasn’t one to take some initiative after said conversation, either – such as rounding up the sinners involved with Charlie’s distress and fiercely discussing with them what should happen next.

No – that wasn’t Lilith’s style, I believed.

It was more likely that the Queen would simply hover around her darling daughter’s bedroom door and wait for the right people to come to _her_ , as every well-thinking member of a powerful royal family would. After all, why waste all that time and energy when you know beforehand some individuals _will_ come back to a certain place anyway, whether they like it or not?

Hence why it didn’t come as a surprise to me to see Lilith elegantly lounging around on a large, black and thorny chaise longue (which, to be honest, _hadn’t_ been there before, so that _did_ surprise me) when I returned to the corridor I had left her a couple of hours ago. She even had a book I recognized as one of Charlie’s in her graceful clutches and she was calmly flipping through it, ignoring me as I came closer to her.

Instead of letting the Queen’s superior behavior get the better of me, I flippantly took in the morbid environment, looming over the hallway like a threatening thunderstorm. There had appeared even _more_ fractures and holes on the pauperized wall around Charlie’s bedroom door, I observed, and the air surrounding it had gotten ice-cold, in spite of the smoldering spots here and there. Heavens, I could even _see_ my own breath and body heat, leaving my body in small wisps.

Well. Seemed like Charlie’s mood most definitely hadn’t improved.

My attention was effectively pulled back to Charlie’s mother, when she abruptly snapped the book she had been half-heartedly scanning shut and tossed it aside, like a piece of garbage. She then eyed me with a haughty smirk on her hard, inaccessible face, folding one leg over the other one and making a very unnecessary show out of it.

I – simply watched her in silent confusion and annoyance, blinking and wondering whether or not I should say something about it. Was this supposed to be seductive? I just wanted to see Charlie already. Should I perhaps congratulate Lilith with her legs, tell her they were exceptionally _long_ today? Would that speed all of this up a little?

Luckily, Lilith herself realized soon enough that things weren't going to go anywhere like this and rolled with her eyes, raising her big, voluptuous figure from the chaise longue.

“Alright,” she started with a sigh, “since Charlie told me you don’t know anything about her succubus form yet, I think an – _ugh_ – explanation is in order, before I throw you into the lioness’ den. You deserve to at least know _that_ much.”

I smiled weakly.

Ah.

So Vaggie’s assumption about what I needed to do had been right after all.

“Oh don’t bother, Your Majesty,” I politely told Lilith. “I’ve already been thoroughly informed about your daughter's condition a while ago. I know – what’s going on in there. And you don’t need to throw me into anything. I’ll enter the bedroom by my own volition.”

She looked puzzled, yet pleased. “ _Really_ now? Very good. That saves me a lot of time.”

“I’m sure it does.”

“I’m rather amazed you’re _not_ trying to run away, truth be told.” Lilith cocked her head to the side. “If you’re indeed _fully_ _aware_ of what’s awaiting you in this room, you should be absolutely _terrified_. On the other hand, however, you’re not the first one of Charlie’s lovers to falsely believe the power of their so-called ‘ _love’_ for her will help them through this night. That _that_ will fill up the hole they left behind in my daughter’s heart. And fill up other holes, too, naturally.”

Oh _lord_.

Pretending I didn’t hear that last obscene bit of her remark, I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Ha! The power of my _love_? _Please_ , Queen Lilith, you _insult_ me. I’m not a naïve child that believes in fluffy fairy tales and happy endings – I’m an adult man who didn’t only _see_ his fair share of horror and despair in the world back in the days, but used to enthusiastically inflict it onto _others_ as well.”

“Used to,” Lilith repeated me. “Not anymore.”

I bit my tongue and kept silent.

The imposing Demon Queen made a few slow steps towards me, towering high above me. She bent down from the waist when she stood before me, hooking a pointy finger underneath my chin and flashing me a patronizing grin.

Goodness. For a seductive succubus, she certainly did her best to be anything _but_.

“You’ve changed, Alastor,” she said. “You used to be such a frightening monster – but these days, you seem to believe you can be a _prince_ instead. You believe you can _save_ the princess. Just like that naïve child you so mockingly described, that believes in fluffy fairy tales and happy endings. How ironic.”

I couldn’t decently put into words just how much I _loathed_ being touched like this, by beings like _her_ – and oh how _tempting_ it was for me to firmly swat her rude, insistent hand away from me. I forced myself to bear with it, however, and increased the magnitude of my own smile.

“With all due respect, Queen Lilith – you know nothing about me.”

“I know _enough_. Your offhanded, cold comments and empty sneers can’t fool me, you stubborn, lowly mortal. Not after that _embarrassing_ scene you made earlier. You _love_ my daughter. You love her dearly – and you are _very much_ planning to save your feeble relationship with her, no matter what.”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Yes.” Lilith’s outstretched smile slowly disappeared. “You’ll only make it harder for her to get over you, once all of this is over.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t need to get over me.” I managed to gently push Lilith’s itchy nail away from my face.

Lilith clacked her tongue disdainfully, but let me back off myself from her. “Have it your way then – again, I, for one, am already _more_ than happy I don’t have to force you to go inside. That would only make things even more agonizing than they already are.”

She heaved another sigh, rolled back up and arched her back, glancing at Charlie’s bedroom door. She didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes and I didn’t try to fill up the silence either – so for a while, it was just me, Lilith and the foreboding image of Charlie’s bedroom door behind the two of us.

Waiting.

“Once you are inside, the door will automatically lock itself.” Lilith’s monotonous voice sounded like she was citing the instruction manual of some sort of machinery, all but stating out loud to me that she _indeed_ had seen and done all of this before. “You and Charlie will be stuck with one another for the rest of the day and night. I will be nearby, just in case Charlie needs me, and I will pick you up in the morning. Since Charlie has insisted you’ll leave this hotel without taking any mental trauma with you, I’ll erase your memories of your time together afterwards. So rest assured: no matter how brutal things may get from this point on, you won’t remember a thing of it tomorrow.”

“Well that’s sweet of her.”

“Too sweet if you’d ask me. She’s getting soft.” Lilith paused. “Any questions?”

“I have one,” I said, breezily stepping closer to the door and watching Lilith reach for the bedroom’s doorknob. “Charlie _will_ regain control of herself once she’s satisfied. Right?”

Lilith nodded, arching an eyebrow. “Yes. By you. _Just_ you.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Thank you, Queen Lilith.” I beamed a passive smile at her. “That’s all. You can open the door now.”

Charlie’s mother looked at me, intrigued, and even though it for a moment seemed like she was going to say something to me, she in the end didn’t say another word. All she did was open the ominous-looking door for me and sent me off with a half-condescending, half-amused gaze, as I inhaled deeply and walked straight into the dear bedroom I had been shut out of for so long.

But not anymore.

I moved nimbly and quickly. There was not a hint of uncertainty in my step. Not even when the door closed behind me and audibly locked itself.  
  


**AaA**

**  
** It was not all that late in the afternoon by the time I finally stood there, in the middle of Charlie’s bedroom. There should be plenty of light outside still. A comforting sign that the day wasn’t over yet and that darkness was still slumbering in the shadows of those who were awake. 

However, the room I had willingly walked into was engulfed in a sultry, tangerine, _warning_ glow, letting me know that twilight had somehow fallen earlier in this particular part of the hotel. Everything around me was either yellow, or red, or orange – bright, ‘happy’ colors, colors that usually felt so _energetic_ and _pleasant_ to the unsuspecting viewer observing them, but now only left behind a faint sense of dread and nausea in the back of one’s mouth.

Not in _mine_ though.

Because there she was. 

She sat at the foot of the bed, watching me with unblinking, fiery eyes. Her shoulders were slouched, but looked sensual nevertheless, and her pale arms reached behind her as she leant back on the precisely-made mattress. I could see her hands, resting on top of the sheets. Beautiful blonde, unruly and unkempt hair swirled restlessly around an unmoving, horned head, as if an unknown force played a strange game with it, and her skin had an alluring, yet wicked shine of gold to it, as the suddenly-setting sun of Hell hit every breathtaking inch of it with its warm rays.

Charlie was – completely naked.

Normally, exposing one’s skin like that was a very vulnerable position for every normal, well-thinking person to be in. But not for Charlie. For her, this demonic version of herself granted her more power, admiration and recognition than whatever spiky harness she or her family possessed and _she_ _knew_ _it_. She knew _exactly_ how intimidating she looked. The dead stare in her snake-like eyes told me so.

Did she _enjoy_ this, though?

Her shoulders were tense, in spite of the relaxed position she was sitting in.

The long, black nails of her hands gripped the sheets of the bed hard enough to see shreds forming in its fabric.

And there was no expression on her face. Not a vicious, overbearing smile like the ones her mother, father and me _myself_ liked to wear so expertly, nor a hint of any other kind of feeling housing inside of her, either. She was like the kidnapped Angel we kept around the hotel: hollow on the inside, void from any sort of emotion, and hardened on the outside.

She didn’t care anymore.

No matter how much she knowingly had influenced me in the past year and what amazing impressions her sweet, easy and patient love had had on me.

To her, I already was the next tragic memory she needed to stash away in the deepest, most hidden portion of her mind. 

It was up to me to show her that she didn’t have to.

  
**AaA**

**  
** After what felt like an eternity, I heard myself clearing my throat at last. One of us had to come into action at _some_ moment. Why not let me be the first?

“Good afternoon, Charlie,” I said.

“Hello Alastor,” she answered.

Alastor. She hardly _ever_ called me Alastor. I had always been ‘Al’ to her. Not ‘Alastor’. Not the ‘Radio Demon’. Just Al. Knowing that, and realizing I that I might never ever hear her say it again, made my heart shrink. 

Charlie carried on, her low, odd tone of voice sounding devious to my ears.

“I see you entered this room out of your own accord. My mother didn’t need to drag you in.”

“Indeed,” I admitted.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t know anything anymore.”

“Charlie, I—”

“Save your breath, Alastor. You will need it.”

Charlie stood up from the bed, her bare feet connecting to the floor and coming my way. Slowly, very slowly. I let her approach me and didn’t try to step back or look away from her, even though I found it hard to see her like this. Like Lilith had said, there was an all-consuming beauty to this monstrous side of the woman I loved: she was dazzling, exquisite… _enticing_ , in every sense of the word. To be perfectly honest, I would most likely not mind to engage in certain erotic activities with Charlie as she was now, since this was _also_ Charlie. An interesting, forbidden kind of Charlie…

…had she actually _wanted_ to do this.

But she _didn’t_.

So neither did I.

It was very simple.

It was so very simple, I even told her.

“Simple?” Charlie parroted me, holding still in front of me. “You think it will be simple for you to deny me, just like that?”

She moved her face close to mine, close enough for me to see the little spots in her multicolored irises – close enough to feel her breasts, without them even touching me yet. Her supple, black lips were mesmerizing and impossible to ignore– especially when they started moving and talking. 

“You seem to be under the impression that I will brutally force myself on you and assault you, while you kick and scream and try to get away from me. Well, sweetie – it doesn’t work like that.”

Charlie’s cold, yet sensational hands and fingers fluttered over my arms like frozen butterflies and they tugged teasingly at the sleeves of my coat. 

“I’m a succubus now, Alastor. Or I at least partly am. You know what that means? It means that it doesn’t matter whether or not you like to sleep with me – as an ordinary mortal, you can’t help but thirst for me anyway. Crude, cordial desires, Alastor. Regardless of your sexuality, you will give in to them tonight. Partly because you’re just a weak human with an even weaker body that doesn’t always listen to the mind, no matter how hard it struggles and protests against it… but mostly because you’re still my lover.”

A vacant smile appeared on her face.

“You _want_ to satisfy me.”

“I do,” I said with a breathless puff of air. “More than anything.”

There was a strange kind of grimace on Charlie’s face as her hands travelled up my arms and sluggishly wound themselves around my neck. It was the look of someone who had known beforehand that this would happen and was both pleased as well as gravely disappointed with this outcome.

Nevertheless, her mouth came closer to my own – slightly moist, slightly opened. I couldn’t look at anything else but her and had to swallow when her firm, fleshy bosom was finally smeared against my chest completely.

“Now,” she whispered, “you’ll be pretty busy for the next couple of hours. Since you’ve chosen to be compliant, I’ll tell you what you can expect during this last special night. I’ll even try to not utterly destroy you… but you’ll need more than that promise to keep going for the rest of the night. I need all of you, after all. And I need it constantly. Over and over and over again, until I decide it has been enough.”

I wanted to ask her the question that would be on the mind of _every_ hapless fool that was in my position right now, but she answered it before I could even raise my voice.

“Don’t worry – too much, that is. Succubi like me have… _unusual_ bodily fluids. They work as a very powerful and encouraging aphrodisiac that will keep you aroused and raring to go for as long as I am. Isn’t that convenient? It doesn’t affect your stamina, however. At a certain point, your energy level will get too low to keep up with me and your manipulated body’s ‘needs’. But by then, you’re probably too exhausted, overstimulated and mentally out of it to even give a damn about it anyway, so that should put you at ease.”

“Not at all.” I looked at her. “Does it put _you_ at ease?”

No reaction, just that same, listless expression. All she had to do to seal the deal was press our lips together – and then it would all be over. However, she hadn’t kissed me yet. She was listening.

Always the risk-taker, I carefully put my hands on her bare hips – but I wavered too much between hugging her icy, attention-seeking figure against me and pushing it as far away from me as was humanely possible to make a definite decision on what to do next. 

“You don’t have to do this, Charlie,” was what I said at last.

Finally, I saw a hint of emotion flaring up in those bright, yet empty eyes of hers and her thin eyebrows knitted together.

“I don’t ‘have to’?”

Within seconds, she had jerked one of my hands off her curves. She spread her legs a bit wider and shoved my hand in-between her thighs, her eyes boring hard into my bewildered ones as I felt the dripping wetness of her entrance soak my hand through and through.

“I’ve been like _this_ ,” she hissed, “for almost _two_ _weeks_ , and I _can’t_ get rid of this drive – I _can’t_ bring myself the _bliss –_ the _rest_ I so desperately _need_. No matter what I do. It just keeps getting worse and worse and I absolutely _hate_ _it_ , because unless _you_ help me with this, I’ll eventually have to start looking for _other ways_ to get rid of my frustrations.”

Vaggie’s voice suddenly emerged in my head, urgently reminding me that Charlie was now _“…a stunning, yet intense, brash and dangerous enchantress that has enough power within her to destroy everything within a two mile radius around her.”_

I understood her better now.

Instinctively, I wrenched my hand out of hers the moment Charlie’s tight, unnaturally strong grip lessened. I happened to glance at the place my hand was pulled back from and noticed the transparent glimmer of her arousal, trickling out of her body and over her shaky legs.

Then I looked back at Charlie, who’s face had become bitter and unfeeling again. There were dark, gray circles underneath her eyes, a telling sign she hadn’t slept in days and _this, all_ of this, was getting the better of her. Hadn’t her mother dropped by for a visit, one could only wonder for _how_ _much_ _longer_ she would have been able to keep herself shut away from the rest of Hell. Maybe I didn’t even want to know.

“So?” Charlie tilted her head, disrupting my thoughts. “Shall we? I’ll make a nice start, first…”

I watched as she took my hand once more – the one that had been in-between her legs just a few minutes ago – and I felt my startled heart jolt when I realized she was guiding it to her watering mouth, planning on licking every sticky bit of her own essence off of my fingers.

And then – what had she planned on doing after that?

“Alright,” I heard myself hastily say, quickly redrawing my hand from hers yet again, “alright, Charlie, if you need me to get rid of – whatever it is that’s wreaking havoc in your body, I won’t stop you. You can do with me whatever you need to do.”

She nodded silently. She was listening – again.

“On one condition,” I said.

“What condition?”

“I never told you about my plan.” I breathed out softly. “I never explained how or why I planned to get you into Heaven.”

Charlie shook her head. “Forget it. I don’t need your explanation anymore. Bob – I mean, _Hakim_ told me all about it.”

I smiled – not smugly, just _friendly_. “Do you really believe he told you all that you should know?”

“Yes.”

“Suit yourself.” I shrugged. “Never mind then. Well, excuse me while I get undressed.”

I took a few steps back and began to undo my own clothing. Calmly, patiently. From the corners of my eyes, I could see Charlie stare at me. I had no idea what was going on behind those yellow-red orbs, unfortunately enough, but I simply clenched my teeth and hoped for the best.

Miserably enough, it had been futile to believe Charlie’s curiosity would save me from getting fully undressed – because I indeed ended up being completely naked. Like I had said before, I, like most people, didn’t particular _enjoy_ being exposed like this. Perhaps even _less_ so than most people. It simply wasn’t a very comfortable situation for me to be in, unless it was in the direct presence and safe warmth of Charlie’s bed and non-succubus body. However, that was most certainly _not_ the case right now. Not with a lustful Charlie in front of me, who looked me up and down without saying a single word.

“Well then,” I managed to say (without any weird stammers, praise the lord). “I certainly cannot _wait_ to engage in all that morally-ambiguous sex with you. So, what shall we—”

“I want to know more,” Charlie cut me off.

I pretended to look very surprised. “Hmm?”

Charlie frowned. “I really – _really_ need to know what you think I should still know. About your plan. You have no idea _how_ _badly_ I want to know. How much it bothered me in the past weeks. So… tell me.”

I smiled again. “Of course.”

It was a good thing I had _frantically_ willed my invisible audience to keep it down today, because I could _feel_ their relieved gasps running through me, like crackling airwaves from an old radio.

  
**AaA**

**  
** It had become clear to me that having Charlie be interested enough in my story to postpone the erotic part of the evening, even in _her_ soaking-wet position, most likely was a _very_ rare feat – and that I therefore shouldn’t do anything to provoke her in this situation.

So when Charlie said we should lay in her bed, as naked as the both of us were, so that we could instantly ‘get down to business’ the second I was done telling her the truth about my plan, I didn’t protest and didn’t try to talk myself out of it. I simply agreed and joined her as she climbed in bed and laid down on her side.

“Okay,” Charlie said, staring intently at me. “I’m listening.”

And I knew she was.

  
**AaA**

**  
** I told Charlie everything.

Absolutely _everything_.

Even the less pretty and less heroic parts of my plan.

Charlie quietly listened to me for the most part, but she sometimes wanted to know more about the circumstances – and so, I told her even more.

  
**AaA**

**  
** “So Angel Dust and Husk were involved as well?” she asked.

I gave her an apologetic smile. “Yes.”

“Did you force them to?”

“As much as I’d like to flatter myself and say that that indeed was the case – no, I didn’t force them to. Husker, for example, had known about my plan to get you to Heaven almost (emphasis on _almost_ ) right from the get-go. And then he simply decided he wanted to help me out with that. If it weren’t for him, my plan most likely wouldn’t have gone as smoothly as it went. Well… as it at _first_ went, naturally.”

“What did he have to do?”

“He helped me fighting and capturing Hakim and he made sure I’d survive walking back to the hotel, from Rosie’s place. There are more instances in which he helped me out, no doubt about it – he also made sure the doctors didn’t try anything funny while I was wounded – but the examples I just explained to you were probably the most important things he did.”

Charlie frowned. “And Angel?”

“Angel Dust thought up something to explain the malfunctioning internets and telephone-things, the day I went to meet up with Hakim. Apparently, Husker had put a foot in his mouth and told him about parts of my plan – like the part of me, making sure there was no signal or network in the hotel that day – and instead of alerting you, Angel had chosen to help us out.”

“Why?”

“Because he agreed with me. And he _still_ does.” I looked at her. “You belong in Heaven.”

She didn’t respond to that.

  
**AaA**

**  
** Charlie, even in her succubus-form, found it hard to stay stoic when I explained the Hakim-part to her. She found out through what kind of personal nightmare I had dragged the Angel in order to have him help me out with my elaborate plan, and her silent fury, disturbing the icy air around us, was close to tangible.

“He didn’t mention all of that when I talked to him. You made him suffer _so much_.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I only nodded.

“And not just that.” She brought her hand to her mouth and bit on a finger nail. “You _knowingly_ upset my murderous father, just so he’d let an Angel come down to Hell. Just so you could then proceed to nearly beat that Angel to death, kidnap him and let Rosie break his mind, wings and feathers in the most _horrible_ way possible. Just so you could _use_ him, for your own selfish scheme. He went through hell and back, got himself into this godawful deal with you, because you practically _blackmailed_ him into it, and you never stopped to think about it. You didn’t even _care_. You only thought about _yourself_.”

“I thought about _you_.”

“No you _didn’t_!” It was a welcome surprise to see more emotion appear on Charlie’s face, even if it only was more anger. “You didn’t give two shits about what I felt about your stupid plan! You know I wouldn’t have liked it – so you executed your plan behind my back, like a _coward_! You played me and all the others like a damn fiddle and Hakim… _god_ , how can I ever look him in the eye again, now that I know _this_ …”

“Hakim doesn’t blame you,” I instantly said. “And like Angel Dust, he agrees with me as well.”

Charlie slowly lowered her finger. “He – he agrees?”

“You can ask him later if you don’t believe me, but – yes. Although Hakim at first was very skeptical of you, he grew fond of you – like I had hoped he would, in all fairness. He saw what good person you are, and how ridiculous it is that you are here in Hell, instead of in Heaven. So he started helping me out upon discovering there were a few things you still had to work on, before you’d be able to ascend to Paradise. Such as your confidence, the bond you have with your parents… and your relationship issues with _me_ ,” I explained.

“So… all those times you helped me out with the hotel… and made sure I’d rekindle my relationship with mom and dad… and told me personal, confidential secrets about yourself… it was _all_ for your…”

As her voice muted, I forbid myself to look away from her. “Yes.”

I had expected Charlie to lash out at me again, and I wouldn’t have minded it. After all, all of that was for the plan. Even when things had taken a turn for the worst, I still thought about the plan. Even _now_.

However, much to my astonishment, an outburst didn’t happen. Quite the opposite, even.

“Why do you have so much faith in me?” she asked me delicately. Charlie didn’t smile, not in the _least_ , but the hateful glister in her eyes was gone. “You did all of that – all because you believed I could go to Heaven?”

“All because you _deserve_ Heaven,” I heard myself answer her. “More than anybody.”

“I’m not a sinner, Alastor.” Her words cracked a little. “I was _born_ in Hell, not… sent here after living a forsaken life as a human. This is… my – my past, my present and my future.”

“So Lucifer told me, yes.”

“Even if I wanted to, you can’t get me into Heaven. It’s impossible.”

“That’s what seems to be the case.” 

“But you _still_ haven’t given up on that, have you?”

I laughed wryly. “Well.”

“It’s not going to happen. I refuse to leave the sinners behind,” Charlie firmly said.

“Hm-hm.”

“Who else will care for them if I’m gone, Alastor? Did you even think about that? Just who will run the hotel, protect the sinners from harm and make sure nothing bad will happen to them? Who will try to help them – to guide them? Who will try their best to redeem them, like I promised them _I_ would?”

I didn’t answer that question; I simply laid there and watched her with a resigned smile.

And yes – finally, Charlie’s face began to change. Her brows arched, her eyes lost the vicious red and her black, pretty pupils grew larger and rounder again. She stared back at me, uttering a soft whimper.

“ _You_? W-will _you_..?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do, once you’ve ascended? I can’t join you after all, thanks to Hakim’s little curse. And it’s not _just_ me.”

I hesitated, but dared to move myself a little bit closer to her. A little bit – just a little bit. As long as she didn’t plunge her tongue into my mouth, I should be safe, wasn’t that so?

“I might be an amazingly cunning overlord of Hell (and a fairy _swell_ hotel manager as well, if you don’t mind me saying so), but in order to make sure the hotel is safe when I – when _you’re_ gone, I have been ‘recruiting’ some influential others to have my back. Rosie – my cruel, dress-making, Bob-tormenting friend – likes you, too! And those other evil overlords we met at the party of your parents, they were very enthusiastic about you as well, my—”

I stopped talking before the term of endearment could leave my lips.

No. Not yet.

  
**AaA**

**  
** By the time it was completely dark outside, I was running out of secrets to share with Charlie.

I had told her even the most _selfish_ secrets I had kept behind my back, hidden away from her – such as the fact that I, in the very beginning, had only wanted to help her out with her hotel because I was hoping to see her fail _spectacularly_ , or that I had intended our romantic relationship to be completely dominated by _me_ and _my_ needs, wishes and urges, first, before I’d stop to think about _hers_. That I originally had wanted to get her to Heaven in order to indirectly protect her from _myself_ , once I had grown bored of her and decided to destroy all of Hell on a whim (yes, Lucifer had been partly right about that one).

I chuckled a little after telling her all this. “Well, we all know how wonderfully _those_ plans turned the tables on me in the end, didn’t we?”

Charlie smiled. A little.

But that was okay.

She _smiled_ at me.

At _last_.

She had scooted a bit closer to me as well, and no longer in a threatening succubus way. No – over the course of the evening, I had noticed how her horns had disappeared, her form had decreased in size and how her darling voice had become sweeter, silkier, better.

Thank _god_.

Charlie eyed me privately when I finally fell quiet. After spending such a long lime awake over the past couple of days, _plus_ having to listen to my plan’s blueprints for _hours_ , she had probably gotten pretty sleepy.

“Was that all?” she still asked.

Feeling the scar on my right hand burn, almost as if on cue, I breathed out – and shook my head at her.

“No. That’s not all. There is _one_ thing I have yet to tell you. _One_ secret left for you to know.”

She gazed at my face, exhaling. “But… you can’t tell me that yet, can you?”

“Let me answer that question with another question: now that you know about all my other secrets, do you think you can forgive me for all that pain, stress and despair I have put you and the other people through in the past couple of weeks – no, _months_ even?” I countered. “I’m asking because I’m quite sure telling you my final secret right this moment will instantly... manipulate you, in some way, and in my book, that’s not fair.”

Charlie opened her mouth – but I put a finger on it, hushing her.

“You don’t have to answer that yet,” I softly said. “Silly girl – you think I’d demand an answer from you after a bizarre night like _this_? You’re too _tired_ , Charlie. So I need you to let all that I have told you sink into you, first. And _rest_. Sleep for a couple of days. Take it easy. Let people pamper you. Once you have thought it over carefully and made up your mind about forgiving me or not forgiving me, I _will_ tell you my final secret, regardless of your answer. I _promise_. Is that okay?” 

Charlie didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, but then she awkwardly raised her hands, placing them on my face. I had to gulp down a lifetime’s worth of tears when I felt how _tender_ and _warm_ her touch was.

I swallowed again and my hand glided over one of hers, gripping it.

“Are – are you satisfied, Charlie?”

Her eyes met mine – sleepy, but open wide nevertheless – and she nodded, a blush coloring her face in the most lovely shades of pink.

“Yeah. I’m satisfied, Al.” 

It was only when I heard her say _that_ _word_ , those two simple, easy letters, that I dared to wrap my arms around her. Holding back a sob, I embraced her smaller body, pressing her against me fully and completely while shaking uncontrollably. Charlie made a drowsy, yet content humming noise as I pulled the bed’s blankets over the two of us, and she wiggled around in my hold until our uneven bodies settled down into more comfortable, more familiar positions.

Feeling the (now) normal temperature and (now) pleasant company of her naked body seated against my own, and gingerly pressing impromptu kisses on the back of her pretty blonde head, I closed my eyes. I breathed in and out, slowly, again and again, until Charlie’s even, peaceful sleeping noises made me lose consciousness as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After finding out his wife has been unfaithful to him, the Sasanian King Shahryar has the Queen executed. Feeling bitter and betrayed, the King decides that all women are infidel beings. He therefore starts marrying and offing a load of virgins: first he marries one, then he sleeps with her – and finally, he executes the unfortunate lady the very next morning, so that she won’t have a chance to ever cheat on him. The vizier (who needs to find and bring him all these poor virgins) eventually runs out of suitable women, and that’s when his daughter, the beautiful Scheherazade, offers herself as the King’s bride. The poor vizier has no choice but to gift his daughter to the King, fearing the worst.  
> However, Scheherazade, a witty and intelligent young woman, has a plan. On the night of her marriage to the King, she starts telling him an exciting tale… and she doesn’t end it. The King, too curious about how the story will end, spares her life for another night. The very next evening, Scheherazade does end the story – but she instantly makes up a new on right after, which also ends with a cliffhanger. The King is once more forced to postpone his wife’s execution, since he also wants to hear the conclusion of this new story.  
> This goes on for one thousand and one nights, after which the King finally gives his wife (who he has actually grown to love by then) a pardon, sparing her life. 
> 
> This actually isn’t a single story – but a collection of (REALLY old) Middle Eastern folktales, written down in Arabic, during the Islamic Golden Age. There are many authors and storytellers that have collected the complete work over the years, so it would be unfair to cite just one writer to the work. The frame story of this collection of tales – the story about Scheherazade and King Shahryar mentioned above – is probably one of the most well-known out of all of them.


	32. The Ugly Duckling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last week's chapter was one of the most important chapters of this story. Not only because a _lot_ of secrets got brought into the light at last, but also because chapter 31 signaled that we are in _the final arc_ of - well, the stories/fics covering the Libraryverse. Oh! Can you believe it? Man, how far we've gotten!^^  
> Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the wonderful reactions I got on last week's chapter! They really made me beam with pride and joy! 8DDDDD It was the best!
> 
> Of course, we're not done yet. There's still a lot of unsolved business that needs to be taken care of... and let's sort all of that out, starting from this very chapter! 8DDDD
> 
> Enjoy! And brace yourself - the first bit is going to be quite fluffy/sappy. I can't help it. It had to happen. XDDDDD

When I got into Charlie’s bedroom the very next morning, I realized something was different. Different than those other times I had entered Charlie’s bedroom, after… ‘the night’ had passed, to be precise. 

Stumped, I noted that the room had no signs of demonic destruction, that there was no lingering stench of brutal, animalistic sex wafting through the air and – most important of all – there was no quivering, twitching ball of what had remained of Alastor’s flesh and sanity waiting for me. 

No. All I stumbled upon was the sickeningly-sweet sight of my daughter and her – _whatever_ he was to her right now, locked in each other’s warm embrace. Sleeping comfortably in the rising sun’s soft light, that shone through the windows’ frilly pink curtains. It didn’t _look_ like the two of them had a rough night behind them – quite the opposite, it looked like they didn’t have a care in the _world._ Like nothing noteworthy had happened at all.

From Charlie’s rosy face and calm breathing, I stared at Alastor’s vulnerable, but peacefully slumbering figure, snuggled jointly against my daughter’s back. His lanky, scarred, thin arms were woven around her intimately, protectively. His hands loosely rested against hers.

Very… wholesome, I suppose. But not exactly positions I had expected Charlie or the Radio Demon to be in after a night that should have wrecked her and completely _shattered_ him. 

_How_?

I felt puzzled. I couldn’t understand. Overlord or not, Alastor was still so very _weak_ in my eyes. _Especially_ since I had become aware that he was slowly succumbing to an illness nobody could cure. Surely, if _I_ was to have my way with him as he was now, he wouldn’t have lasted for even a _single_ round. His body and mind would have split in mere moments and then all that would have been left of the former serial killer was a shallow, spineless shadow of the man he used to be.

Charlie could break men and women apart like that as well. I had seen it before: the empty shells of sinners and demons she, much to her own horror, had given up on after a wild night of hot, hard sex and nothing _but_ hot, hard sex. Those had all been creatures that, according to my memories at least, were _far_ less fragile than Alastor’s frail, sick person was. 

And yet, here he was. Holding my daughter like the treasure she still was in his eyes.

But of course he was: after all, he had managed to somehow endure the night with her without as much as even a single _scratch_. I could feel my jaw lower itself when I suddenly realized...

Oh.

 _Oh_.

For the love of all that’s good and holy – they probably didn’t even have intercourse at _all_ last night, did they?

Gasp. The **_audacity_**!

Again – just _how_? Had he somehow convinced her _not_ to sleep with him? Had he knocked her out cold before she could lay her hands on him? Had he satisfied her otherwise? It seemed like the last option was indeed the case, but – was that even _achievable_? What in Hell’s name could possibly be _more_ satisfying than some good old _coitus_? My mind simply couldn’t wrap itself around the mere concept alone!

My daughter should have completely _obliterated_ him in bed yesterday – not ended up wrapped safe and sound in his arms like he was this bizarre prince-like guy he kept trying to be for her!

…

But he wasn’t trying anymore, was he?

He had seen her for who she was. He had stayed. And he would remember.

He had _saved_ her.

There was no need for him to try anymore.

Faintly, as I watched the two of them for a little while longer, I recalled the last shreds of the conversation I held with Alastor, just the other day.

_“Charlie will regain control of herself once she’s satisfied. Right?”_

_“Yes. By you. Just you.”_

_“I understand.”_

_“I don’t think you do.”_

Perhaps _I_ had been the one to misunderstand all along?

I felt… strangely happy about that.

My mouth twisted and turned into a small, resigned smile at last, letting a spiritless sigh escape my lips as I tore my eyes away from the cute couple and walked away from the bed. I sat down on the windowsill and gazed outside, uttering yet _another_ sigh that could have likely given others the idea that I was bored or annoyed with the end results of – all of this.

I wasn’t, though. Not in the slightest. 

The sunlight was getting brighter and while I suspected Charlie probably wouldn’t be able to wake up for a while, as per usual after her (now appeased) succubus side had been out and about for a bit too long, Alastor most likely _would_ wake up soon. And when _that_ happened, I’d like to have a word with him.

He had wanted to have Lucifer’s blessings. I hope mine would suffice as well.

  
**CcC**

**  
**I kept getting this weird dream that wasn’t a dream at all. It was a _memory_ , most likely, but it was presented to me like it was a dream.

In this dream-slash-memory, Alastor held me in his arms. It was nice, it was bliss and it felt _safe_ , like coming home after having been away from its warmth for far too long. But Al’s embrace, no matter how wonderful his touch felt, also had a – _desperate_ hint to it. I recalled hearing his subdued crying while he clung to me, and I remembered I had wanted to do something about that. I could never just idly stand by while Al cried – I just _didn’t do that_ when someone like Al cried, because… because you can bet on it something _really_ concerning is going on, once _he_ starts bawling. So I laid there in his lean arms and worriedly wondered if I should… tell him something reassuring, something that would stop his muffled sobs, prevent the wet teardrops that escaped his eyes from falling into my neck, one way or another.

But it was pointless. I couldn’t move, after all. I couldn’t even open up my eyes. I was just so tired – so unbelievably _exhausted_. All I could do was simply _be_ there for him, let Alastor hold on to me and pray that that was good enough for him, for now at least.

It was good enough for _me,_ in any case. Because I had missed it. Oh I had missed being like this with him _so_ _much_. I was sure he had missed it, too. I just _knew_ he wouldn’t let go of me, not as long as I hadn’t woken up yet. 

And then he let go of me.

…

Okay – that kind of _sucked_.

His arms just… suddenly slipped away from me, like his body did too, and then I was left all alone in my bed. And instead of waking up, getting out of bed as well and quickly calling out to him, asking him to maybe wait up for me, _please_ wait up for me, I still didn’t budge. I just – _breathed_ , I guess, and I slept. I slept and I slept and I slept, and that same ‘dream’, with Alastor crying and holding on to me, just happened over and over again, like a movie on repeat. Almost as if that was my brain’s way of dealing with things, making me believe I wasn’t all on my own during the time I was recovering from… everything. Because sad or not sad, Al was there with me – or at least the memory of the dream-version of him was.

It was pretty pathetic, really. I vaguely realized that, even in my hazy, unconscious state of mind. But in my defense, I really _did_ seem to sleep for an _abnormally_ long amount of time, so it was only natural for me to try and somehow cope with that strange kind of loneliness I experienced as I laid there.

I mean, _god_ , when I _finally_ managed to pry open my eyes and forced my heavy body to sit up, it was like I had slept for six hundred years. However, instead of feeling energized or well-rested, I just felt muscle pains, as if I had participated in an agonizing marathon or something similar to that, while I _knew_ I had only _rested_. Nothing more, nothing less. But _jesus_ , I felt so _stiff_ and disoriented – a pretty clear sign to me that the body wasn’t made for, well, just laying around all day long after all.

It was okay, though. I didn’t mind the pain all that much. Heck – if these aches were the _worst_ that had come out of… that night, I’d _happily_ bear them.

“Ah, yer finally awake.” Angel Dust’s grave voice snapped me out of my dozy stupor. “About time ya did.”

Rather than greeting the spider guy, I just stared at him, drowsy yet alarmed. “Why is that?”

His many, weirdly-colored eyes sparkled for a split-second and he hastily pulled out his phone, typing something down with rapid speed. Then he put the device away again and sighed, _deeply_.

“Uh. Like, ya know, a lot has happened while you’ve been sleeping, blondie: Niffty has finally found her creepy tiny ass a boyfriend (a real one this time, I’m so proud of her), Husk actually got _sober_ and is now a millionaire _and_ the official world record holder of the title “Most Karaoke Songs Sung While Simultaneously Doing DDR”, and – great news! – Vaggie and I are expecting out eight great-great-great-great-grandchild!”

“Uhm…”

“Also, Alastor totally eloped with Bob.”

“ _What_?”

“Yea. We never saw it coming either. We _should_ have, though – he couldn’t keep waiting for ya _forever_. Ya snooze, ya lose, toots. ‘Sides, you and I both knew he always had this weird fascination for that gloomy Bob McHakimton. That suave emo-jacket of his probably did the trick, ya read me? Bitches _dig_ suave emo-jackets.”

I started to mutter and shake my head in disbelieve. “ _Al_ – with _Bob—”_

Aaaaand then I swiftly reminded myself _just_ _who_ _I_ _was_ _talking_ _to again_ , shut my mouth again before I could finish my sentence and coughed out a strained kind of chuckle.

“H-ha ha ha, _good_ one, Angel, trying to make me believe I _actually_ slept for six hundred years!”

“ _Six_ _hundred_ years?” Angel Dust laughed out loud, his single golden tooth glittering in the piercing sunlight from outside the hotel, and the spider demon gave his leg a firm _smack_ for good measure. “Oh _fuck_ , ya _really_ thought I was trying to make ya believe ya slept for _six_ _hundred_ years?”

“Y-yes!” I agreed, breathing out in relief. “But that’s just silly!”

“Ha ha ha! Yea it is! ‘Cause it was more like a _thousand_ years.”

I made an unconvinced _psssssht_ -noise and immediately hand-waved his comment away. “Yeah _right_ , Angel! You’re obviously kidding!”

Angel Dust abruptly stopped laughing and looked me dead in the eyes, his hands folded together and his incredibly long legs chastely wound together.

“ _Am_ I kidding, Charlie?”

“Ha! H-ha… yes?”

“ _Really_?” He now squeezed his various eyes almost shut as he observed me carefully. “Then explain to me why _I’m_ babysitting ya right now and _not_ yer hot strawberry pimp daddy, toots.”

“…”

“…”

“Oh my god,” I eventually started to wheeze, “holy shit, are you serious, did I really sleep for a _thousand_ years, _did Al actually run away with_ —”

Right at that instant, a wooden… _something_ suddenly (and pretty gracefully) soared through the air and hit Angel _hard_ against the back of his head. The slowly-developing grin was ruthlessly whacked _right_ _off_ the spider demon’s smug face, and he cursed, flinching in pain.

“Ow! Son of a – what the _fuck_!”

“Will you cut the fucking bullshit _out_ already, you lame _prick_?” Vaggie, _storming_ into the bedroom door, snarled at him. She carried a tray with some food and a cup of tea and she glowered at Angel Dust as she passed him. “She _just_ fucking woke up – _really_ woke up this time – and instead of explaining how things are at the moment, you just instantly start telling her random crap? What a _nice_ fucking way to welcome her back, you damn _douche_! Some help _you_ are!”

“Hey, at least she fucking _responded_ this time! And I even took the time to message ya ‘bout it!” Angel Dust nagged back, rubbing over the back of his head. “Ya should be praising me, Vags, not assaulting me with clogs!”

Vaggie gasped. “ _Clogs_? That’s a _slipper_ , asswipe!”

“A _wooden_ slipper? _Nasty_.” Angel checked the slipper and shrieked in disgust. “Whoa, _size 8_?! Slap me on the ass and call me Judy – that’s no slipper _or_ a clog, that’s a fucking _boat_!”

“A boat I will use to _whoop_ _your_ _plush ass_!”

“ _Oof_.” Angel shivered and couldn’t help but grin seductively at her. “Heh, I’ll gladly let ya, Captain Bigfoot.”

“I fucking _know_!” Vaggie panted, getting red in the face.

While Vaggie and Angel Dust bickered/flirted and enriched the entire room with their belligerent sexual tension for a bit longer, their words and arguments instantaneously made me reach the logical conclusion that not _that_ much time had passed after all. Just a couple of days, at most.

Well thank god for _that_.

Relieved (and feeling a heavy case of secondhand embarrassment at watching Vaggie and Angel verbally make-out with one another like that), I let out a quiet breath of air, smiling a little as I pulled the tray closer to me and tore a piece off the loaf of bread. Then I happened to noticed that there was no flag planted on it and the breakfast looked perfectly ordinary, so it wasn’t a Sunday.

And if it wasn’t a Sunday, Alastor could have… been here. Waiting for me to wake up. Maybe even hold my hand as he waited.

But he wasn’t here.

…

Why not?

  
**CcC**

**  
**After Vaggie had passionately kicked Angel Dust out of the bedroom (don’t ask me _how_ she managed to make _that_ look passionate, but she _did_ ), she sat down on the chair next to the bed, brushed her unruly hair out of her flustered face and brusquely began telling me about everything I had missed in the past couple of days.

Apparently, I had been close-to-comatose for four days or so. The day after – ‘the night’ had happened, both mom and Alastor had decided it was best to just let me sleep for as long as I needed to, and so – well, that actually happened. I simply… snored away, just like that. According to Vaggie, I still _kind_ of woke up a couple of times, if only to use the bathroom or eat a little, but I didn’t respond to anybody and acted like a complete sleep-walking zombie, whenever that occurred. Vaggie also said she, Husk, Angel Dust and Niffty had taken turns checking on me and providing me with everything I needed, while Alastor purely focused himself on the hotel and gave me ‘space to think’.

“Space to think?” I folded my forehead critically as Vaggie took the now-empty tray away from me. “I was asleep for _days_ , Vag. I didn’t really have many opportunities to actually think about – things, you know.”

Vaggie just shrugged at that. “In any case, he said he’s doing his best to avoid you, as long as you’re confined to your bedroom.”

I curled my hands around my sheets, crumpling them a little. “Oh.”

“Shouldn’t he?” she asked cautiously.

The cautious, mindful way in which she said that made me look up at her. “Have - have you heard, Vag? About his… scheme?”

“You mean that fucking _dumbass_ plan he had to get you to Heaven? Yeah, I heard about it alright.” My friend nodded. “As soon as he had told you the full story, the dipshit actually made sure to tell the rest of the staff about it as well. So yeah – we’re all up to date here. We know what you know.”

“Oh,” I said again. “Well, okay. That’s good.”

“By the way, did – did you know that doctor Hubermann is a certificated therapist?”

I gave her a questioning look. “Okay. That… came out of nowhere.”

“Ugh, sorry. It’s just…” Vaggie scratched her head, hesitating about whether or not to go on talking – but she in the end put her money on carrying on anyway. “…now that you’ve woken up, you should give doctor Hubermann a call. She’s been informed about your… situation, and she’s thinking about letting you participate in some _badly_ -needed, weekly therapeutic sessions with her. Not originally _my_ idea, really – but I do agree it’s for the best. As does your mom, by the way: she gave the doctor the green light.”

“Therapeutic… sessions?” I muttered.

“Yeah. You (and I) never really thought about it, but – you went through some pretty messed up shit over the past few centuries, Charlie.” Vaggie pursed her lips together. “You… were in a lot of toxic relationships, you have some severe trust issues, you never learned how to deal with your frustrations the right way and you – _still_ suffer a lot from all those traumatizing succubus-phases you’ve been through… even _more_ so than the bastards you dragged down that lane with you, since you were nice enough to let your mom wipe _their_ memories clean afterwards.”

I moved my legs up and wound my arms around them, timidly placing my chin on top of my knees. I didn’t really know what to say now, though.

“Are you okay with that, hun?” Vaggie wanted to know and put a comforting hand on my shoulder, massaging it gently. “I’m sorry for dropping this bomb on you, the fucking second you finally open your eyes, but – I think you should take action as soon as possible. Will you please give doctor Hubermann a call? I – I don’t want you to go through all of that shit _ever_ again.”

I smiled at her at last, feeling my eyes tear up a little.

“N-no, it’s okay! You’re right! I’ll – I’ll give her a call later today. Thank you! It’s just…eheh.” I let out a strange kind of laugh and rubbed my eyes with the trembling palms of my hands, “…I-I can’t believe y-you’re _that_ worried about me…”

“We _all_ are, Charlie!” Vaggie also smiled, moving her chair closer to the bed. “Not just me, or Alastor, or your mother – _everybody_ in this hotel worries about you! We hate to see you suffer in silence. We _care_ about you, hun, because you’re sweet, you’re sincere and you’re the only one in Hell that believes in us – that _cares_ about us!”

“O-okay,” I stammered. “Oh god. I’m sorry for crying. I just – I can’t help it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Vaggie’s lower lip began to quiver. “Don’t you fucking apologize, you damn fucking goober – shit – j-just come here already!”

With a grunt, Vaggie took one of my wrists and caught me into her arms, hugging me aggressively. I heard myself yelp in surprise, but I immediately hugged her back, feeling my face twist and twitch as I clutched her dress, while big blobs of tears started to obstructed my vision more and more.

“You’re going to be alright,” Vaggie mumbled, holding my unstable body tightly and patting the back of my head. “Y-you hear me? You’re going to get help and it’ll be difficult and painful at times, but we’ll help you through it. You’ll be _fine_ , Charlie, you’ll come out of it stronger. I’m sure of it!”

It had been a while since the last time Vaggie and I had shared a hug as soothing and nice as this one was, and while it didn’t stop me from crying like a baby or briefly, _selfishly_ lamenting that she wasn’t someone _else_ – someone a little taller, a little more awkward and a little more needed right now – it still helped.

More than I could have ever imagined it would.

  
**CcC**

**  
**Vaggie eventually let go of me and, at my request, left me on my own. After she did and I had gotten myself dressed, I wasted no time in calling doctor Hubermann, just like I had promised.

I had feared it would be a very awkward and unpleasant conversation, but it actually wasn’t bad at all. Doctor Hubermann and I talked about a lot of things concerning me and the therapy I was going to get, and we in the end agreed on picking Tuesday as _my_ therapy day, since Monday was a therapy day for my hotel’s sinners. She said she’d come to my place and then we’d have a counseling session for like an hour every week, and hopefully, that would be a good start for the… ‘healing process’, as she called it.

 _“It’s about time you learn to deal with the ghosts of your past – and with your demonic side,”_ the doctor sternly explained over the phone.

I had always liked doctor Hubermann the best of all three Royal Doctors, and she sounded very calming and confident during our conversation, so I… wasn’t able to stop myself from telling doctor Hubermann about ‘the night’. About Alastor, and how he had successfully helped me ‘snap’ out of my succubus-phase without needing to force himself on me, or letting me come on to _him_. I also told her just how extremely _strange_ and _unusual_ that was, because that had never _ever_ happened before, and I wondered out loud to her if that – maybe – was a sign that he was – t-that he might be…

 _“What – ‘extra special’? The ‘love of your life’?”_ The doctor snorted. _“Your Highness, pardon my bluntness, but don’t give that Radio Demon too much credits. Talking things out with your lover is a perfectly_ normal _and_ healthy _thing to do. Of_ course _discussing your dissatisfactions and frustrations with him_ _would’ve done the trick – I could have told you_ that _much, had you (or your mother) ever bothered to ask us doctors for help or advice! After all, him coming clean about everything that he had hidden from you…_ that _was_ far better _and_ far more effective _than sex could_ ever _have been!”_

“What?”

_“Please don’t tell Queen Lilith I said that by the way, or she’ll have my head and use it as a mug. And that would just be wasteful. Everybody knows how unpractical skulls are for drinking.”_

I frowned. “So you're saying that talking me out of my stupor has been a plausible option all along, but… but doctor, _nobody_ _else_ had _ever_ managed to get me…”

 _“Princess Charlotte, did any other of you former lovers ever even_ try _to fix your problems by actually_ talking with you, _first_ , _instead of just jumping you or letting you jump them, naively hoping for the best?”_

“I – don’t remember. I don’t think so?”

 _“Should have known – damn oversexed degenerates, no wonder they’re all rotting in Hell.”_ Doctor Hubermann cursed, but then made an understanding humming sound. _“Ah, well. It’s not your fault things always went like this. You didn’t know any better. Her Majesty the Queen simply taught you how_ she _always handles her issues. That helped her, just like it helped you, too, in a way… but your mother, who’s a full-blown succubus, the very_ first _succubus to ever exist even, would, of course,_ never _think about other possibilities to deal with your grievances. How_ could _she have known? She enjoys the pleasures of the flesh too much to seek for an alternative!”_

“So… mom couldn’t help it, either.”

 _“Not really. She helped you with what she knew would work. She_ tried _.”_

“Yeah. She tried.” In spite of everything, I had felt a small smile appearing on my face. “That sounds like mom.”

Doctor Hubermann was quiet for a little while. Not _totally_ quiet though: she was thinking, so much and so fanatically, I could almost _hear_ the wheels inside of her brain turn and grind on the other side of the line.

_“By the way – for clarification purposes, I need to know something for sure.”_

“Yes – w-what?”

 _“Out of_ all _the countless people you’ve dated and almost humped to death, the Radio Demon was the_ only one _that calmed you down by talking, rather than having unwanted intercourse with you?”_

I nodded, realized she wouldn’t hear that, and answered with a soft “yes”.

 _“Huh. Judging on all the idiots you’ve had before, he might deserve some_ _credits after all then._ ” The doctor paused again. _“Keep him.”_

“I— doctor!”

 _“No, seriously – keep him. He might be an overbearing dick, but he’s skilled enough to talk you out of your succubus-haze, man enough to own up to his own mistakes and he was kind enough to spare you from suffering any more trauma. Rare traits for sinners in Hell. Plus, let’s not forget_ he _was the one to suggest I should start giving you therapy sessions in the first place: sessions that will help you process your past and – what did he call it – accept yourself for the ‘beautiful angel’ you have been ‘all along’. He’s a keeper alright.”_

I heard my breath catch in my throat. “A- _Al_ suggested that?”

 _“Oh, my bad – did I say suggest? I meant DEMAND. Regardless of your Royal mother’s opinion on the matter, I’m fairly sure he WOULD have dragged me over to your place either way, had you told him you indeed wanted to receive some counseling. Even in_ his _condition.”_ She groaned, but it was soon one-upped by an amused kind of chuckle. _“Must be nice to have somebody loving you_ that much _, Princess Charlotte.”_

The comment about Al’s condition made some small, attentive bells ring in the back of my head, but the comment that followed, the one about Alastor loving me ‘that much’, shooed the thought away, and for a moment, I could only mutter and mumble shy nonsense to the doctor in response, wiggling around on my feet and hugging myself with my free arm.

“Yeah,” I softly said. “He – he really does.”

The phone call ended shortly after that, and for many reasons, I felt – so much _lighter_ once I had hung up. So, _so_ much lighter and… just _better_. It was like someone had opened up an old, almost-forgotten window inside of my head, finally letting in some clean air to freshen up the dusty, dark space with a much-needed, soothing breeze.

Don’t get me wrong though. I knew that there was still a lot for me to come to terms with, and it would be foolish of me to think that this simple call or the prospect of the therapy sessions were all that I needed to recover from everything that I had experienced over the long, _long_ years I was anxiously trying to put behind me.

But still.

I decided trusted what Vaggie had told me earlier, as she had clutched me in her arms so firmly my muscles had screamed in agony.

I was going to be alright.

  
**CcC**

**  
**Although Vaggie had suggested I maybe should stay in bed today as well (“Just to be sure,” or so she had clarified), I respectfully _refused_ to do so. I knew she meant well, and I could see where she was coming from, but for god’s sake – after having only seen the same four, insufferable walls of my bedroom for _weeks_ , I had _more_ than enough of my stupid bedroom!

So the second my call had ended, I got out of my stuffy bedroom as quickly as I could, happy to finally see some change of scenery.

However, being out of my room all of a sudden felt… pretty _strange_ , I had to say. Especially since I wasn’t really sure what I should do next. Before she left, Vaggie had all but _forbidden_ me to work for a couple of days, so there was nothing for me to do right now.

…

Well. That wasn’t completely true. There _was_ something I could do – something I _needed_ to do, even.

Oh man.

Sighing, I walked around the corridor for a bit. Wandering around my hotel had always helped me with rearranging my thoughts and feelings, if only for just a bit. Of course, this could prove to be very handy for me, as there still was this… _one_ thing clogging up my mind.

I hadn’t forgotten about Alastor’s promise yet, after all. That one (almost horrible) night, he had told me all of his secrets – except for one. And I knew it was a big one. Thankfully enough though, Alastor had promised me he _would_ tell me the contents of the final secret he was hiding from me, but only after I had… made up my mind about him. About me. About _us,_ really. It was up to me to decide what would be best.

How… lovely.

In all fairness, I had felt distraught and sad about Alastor not being there this morning, when I had just woken up. I was in a sleepy daze and had automatically searched the room for his comforting charisma, thinking that seeing him would make me feel better. However, there hadn’t been a trace of him, much to my dismay.

But – to be honest, right now, I think I should have been _relieved_ he hadn’t been there. His more-than-welcome company alone could have influenced my opinion on the matter I was supposed to take an independent stance on, one way or another. Now that I felt better, had gotten a much clearer head and recalled the night he had finally revealed all of his plans to me (sans one) more vividly, there was a very good chance I could actually reach a satisfying conclusion. The _right_ conclusion.

At least, I _hoped._ But what even _was_ the right conclusion?

The question that Alastor had asked me that night, which was now floating around in my head, gave me an uncomfortable, jittery feeling inside of my chest:

_“Do you think you can forgive me for all that pain, stress and despair I have put you and the other people through in the past couple of week – no, months even?”_

Well, I… I didn’t _know_? I mean, when putting it like _that_ , it was like Al _himself_ was saying I’d be a gullible moron if I indeed was going to happily forgive him for all of his lies and tricks. That it would be incredibly _stupid_ to mindlessly throw myself back into his arms again, just like that. Also, who was to say he wouldn’t make the same mistakes again? Alastor was known for manipulating people, even the ones he cared about – I found that out the hard way, after all – and I wondered… Could I ever totally confide in him again, now that he had used my trust for his own plans like this?

So... well... was that a no? _Shouldn’t_ I forgive him?

But I _wanted_ to forgive him. Wasn’t that… enough?

As I paced around, I vaguely picked up a familiar presence, but I was too lost in my own thoughts to react to it yet.

On the other hand, manipulator or not, Alastor wasn’t _that_ much of a bad guy anymore. He had changed for the better, whether he had liked it or not. He had gotten closer to Vaggie, Angel Dust and the other, the hotel’s inhabitants actually dared to speak to him these days and he hadn’t killed a single soul anymore since he had fallen in love with me. He cared _so_ _much_ for me that he even was willing to (almost _word for word_ ) move Heaven and earth in order to gift me everything my heart wished for, no matter the costs. He also had adjusted his original plan for me, swearing to take care of the sinners in my place, in case he indeed succeeded in this endeavors to grant me my eternal Paradise.

Nobody had ever… gone _that_ far for me before.

The presence became slightly more prominent now. I had become more aware of it as well. Still, I tried to focus on my current train of thoughts.

How _couldn’t_ I forgive someone that had done _so much_ for me? It felt ungrateful, in a way.

Shit. It was _hard_ to be impartial on this matter. Oh god – it was so, _so_ hard to try and figure out what was the right call to make. I realized the bad things Al had done in order to get his way were – truly _despicable_. But at the same time, I also understood there was a _nobler_ reason underneath it all, and furthermore, there was also the simple fact that I was – that I still…

I still loved him _just so_ _much_.

So damn much – so _ridiculously_ much, I didn’t even _attempt_ to hide the slightly thrilled tone in my voice when I finally couldn’t take it anymore and swiftly turned around on my heels, looking Alastor – who had been following me through the hallways all this time – straight in the eyes.

“Hi, Al.”

  
**CcC**   
  


Alastor hadn’t expected me to turn around all of a sudden, and he momentarily stiffened, taken aback by my sudden greeting. His clashing eyes met mine and for a tense second, I was sure he was going to reach out to me. I… had to admit I felt I _wanted_ him to. I _needed_ him to grab me and pull me against his much missed body, surround me with his arms and scent and everything that made Alastor Alastor.

I would let him.

To hell with my jumbled-up mess of thoughts and feelings – I would _so let him_.

But Alastor did none of that.

I could tell from the longing gaze in his eyes that he yearned for me just as much as I yearned for him – but instead of giving in to his emotions, he actually backed away from me. _Dramatically_ so, even. He all but _sprinted_ backwards, making a few passing sinners stop and stare at him and the downright _idiotic_ gap he had put between the two of us in curiosity (I swear you could fit an _entire_ _freaking_ _schoolbus_ into it). Alastor ignored them however: his focus was on me and me _only_.

As soon as Al had recovered from the awkward moment enough, he gave me a nod of the head and an appreciative grin.

“Hello, Charlie. My oh my, were you – aware of me?”

“I’m always aware of you if you’re nearby,” I heard myself say.

While Alastor _instantly_ blinked and reddened at that embarrassing remark, I subsequently proceeded to utter a weird little groan, collected my hair in my hands and tried to hide the _huge_ blush that had appeared on my face with my blonde bangs.

“Sorry – oh crap. T-that’s so creepy to say…” 

Again, Alastor restored his posture fairly quick. He chuckled fondly at me and folded his hands on top of his microphone stand. His half-lidded eyes softened considerably as they sought contact with mine.

“It’s actually quite comforting.”

Oh god, my poor heart was on high-alert right away.

“If you say so.” I began to fidget with my hair now, not knowing what else to do or say.

“I see that you have left your bedroom.” Alastor started to fumble as well, also not knowing what to do with his stand, his hands or his entire composure in general. “That’s… such a _delight_. I’m happy beyond _words_ to see you walking around like this.”

A small smile appeared on my face. “I’m… I’m also happy to see _you_ , Al.”

I took a few testing steps in his direction.

He immediately took just as many steps out of mine.

My face fell in disappointment and I stopped trying to approach him. “I… I guess you’re still pretty serious about that whole giving-me-more-space-to-think-thing, aren’t you?”

He gave me a sad smile and shrugged. “Well, it’s not like I have much of a choice, now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself anymore if you get any closer to me, Charlie.”

My body’s temperature flared up. “O-oh.”

“Well. Maybe a _bit_ closer is still doable, as long as I approach you from behind and as long as you don’t directly look me. But not – _much_ more.” His enormous, jovial smile began to falter as he in- and exhaled slowly. “Charlie, please don’t take this the wrong way. It’s taking me every single bit of my self-control to simply talk to you like this, and to not walk over to where you are and – _be_ where you are. You _always_ have that effect on me. You make me want to – hold you. In every sense of the word. And we can’t have that right now – not as long as you still have a decision to make.”

I swallowed and bit the inside of my cheek. I couldn’t _stand_ that he was there, _right there_ , missing me just as much as I missed him, and yet, I still wasn’t able to even be one step closer to him. It made me feel pretty desperate.

“O-oh Al. I get what you mean, I _do_ , but… but don’t you know that I still… you know I… maybe I don’t _have_ to…”

“No. You _do_ have to.” Alastor sounded earnest and on edge, his claw-like hands gripping his cane-like microphone stand so tightly it seemed to crack a little. “I know you love me, _I know_ , and I love you, too. Naturally. But… this is too important for me to just settle for _that_ and forget about forgiveness. Not after everything that has happened. I hurt you, Charlie. And I hurt others, making you suffer even _more_. That’s why I need to earn back the privilege of calling you mine again: by having your heart, your body, your soul… and your trust.”

I sighed. “You never settle for less, do you?”

He shook his head. “I’m a very greedy and unreasonable man, Charlie. I want it all. _All_ of you. How could I ever want _less_ than all of you?”

“Al…”

“But!” He carried on, flicking his pointer finger up in the air, “I _only_ want all of you if you think I _deserve_ it. So, I beg of you once again: decide on whether you will forgive me or not. And please, do take all the time you need. Until you have made up your mind, I’ll patiently wait for it. No matter how much time you need and how excruciating your answer might be, I am willing wait for it. _Gladly_. Everything to ensure the love of my life is certain about her decision.”

It amazed me. Even though we both knew I was prepared to turn a blind eye to his misdeeds and carry on our relationship like nothing bad had taken place at all, Alastor wanted _none_ of it, not unless I could tell him the answer he was looking for. Everything or nothing. It… it was so like _Al_.

And I realized he wasn’t exactly putting me on the spot, either. _Every_ healthy relationship is built on love and trust. Both were needed for a long and happy life together. So Alastor was perfectly _right_ to be so strict with his request – and I was terribly _wrong_ to even _think_ about cheating my way out of it.

If I took this relationship just as seriously as Al did…

… _I_ had to want it all, too.

“Okay,” I therefore heard myself speak up, loud and clear, raising my head up high. “O-okay, Al. I understand now. You want an honest decision? Then I’ll give you just that. I’ll do whatever I can to come to my answer, as soon as possible.”

“I told you I don’t mind wai—”

“ _I_ do!” I gritted my teeth and felt my hands turning into bony balls, my nails digging deep, crescent figures into my flesh. “ _I_ mind waiting! And I mind you waiting for _me_! You’ve waited _enough_ , Al! You’ve waited _more_ than enough and you’ve put up with my…m-my harrowing antics long enough as well! As much as I need to know what I can expect of you, you need to know what you can expect of me, too – so you’ll _get_ your answer, as soon as I’ve found mine!”

A gentle, genuine smile broke free on Alastor’s face. He licked his lips, nodded, and then nodded once more in response, faster this time. His restless stance and hands showed me just _how_ _much_ he had to withhold himself from coming over to me, his entire aura all but _crying out_ how _badly_ he wanted to quit holding back - not to mention the way his adamant radio audience was making an almost heartwarming ruckus over it on the background.

“I love you so much.”

The five words shouldn’t have impacted me as much as they did, but – they did. I made another strange noise in response, clenching my fists together even more. I forced myself to blurt out the following words as sincerely as I could:

“I – it’s… it’s a _promise_ , Al! As soon as possible! I _promise_ you!”

He gave me one final, hopeful smile and a gallant curtesy. Immediately afterwards however, he rapidly walked away from me, before I could say anything more, or start approaching him.

But it was fine.

I was going to be alright. He was going to be alright.

 _We_ were going to be alright. Warts and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bird is born in a mother duck’s nest. As it grows older, it is perceived by the rest of the birds and animals around it as an ugly little creature. Furthermore, the little animal doesn’t seem to look at all like its siblings, and it feels worthless and insignificant.  
> Unhappy with his current life, he wanders away from his home and tries to live with wild ducks and geese... but they get slaughtered by hunters. The duckling doesn’t give up and tries to find a new home with an old woman and her cat and hen… but the cat and hen keep on teasing and bullying him, until he can’t take it anymore and runs off once more.  
> Winter arrives, and one day, the little bird sees a flock of migrating wild swans. He gets an excited and delighted feeling inside of its small body – but he is too young and can’t join the majestic animals as they fly off to the south. A farmer tries to take care of the freezing little bird, but the small duckling is too damaged by all he’s been though: the second the farmer makes too much noise, the duckling flees the house and spends the rest of the winter in a cave, alone and miserable.  
> When spring finally arrives, the flock of swans returns and descends on the lake. The ugly duckling, having grown and matured at last, sees them – and decides right then and there to throw himself at the flock, thinking it’s better to get killed by such marvelous creatures than to continue living his sad life in solitude.  
> But the swans don’t attack him when he shows himself. On contrary: they greet him and accept him, right away! The duckling doesn’t get it… but when he finally catches a glimpse of his own reflection in the water, he realizes that he never was an ugly duckling to start with, but a beautiful swan, all along.
> 
> One of the very few existing fairy tales that was completely original and made up by Hans Christian Andersen. Andersen often said the story of the unhappy little duck was ‘a reflection’ of his own life. When a critic asked Andersen if he’d ever write his autobiography, the writer allegedly responded that there already _was_ such an autobiography: ‘The Ugly Duckling’.


	33. The Town Musicians of Bremen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although I always have a great time working on this fanfiction and love it dearly, I've noticed that updating each and every week actually is pretty tiring!^^;;; School is getting busier as well, since they have opened their doors again in my country, so I hope you won't be too disappointed in me if I tell you that **the next update will be on March 17.**  
>  That's right: I need a small break, just to catch my breath for a bit. Especially since the next chapter _has_ to be a very great entry (you'll see why)! I won't ever forgive myself if I write a chapter that's not worthy of your attention, so... yeah! I hope you understand!^^
> 
> To make up for it a bit, this chapter's a pretty BIG one. And a fun one, too - well, at least I think so! 8DDDDDD
> 
> So yeah: enjoy this update, expect the next chapter in two weeks, and thanks for your patience! <3 <3 <3 
> 
> **_Referenced songs in this chapter:_**  
> ['Something Happened on the Way to Heaven'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vswLoSCNLlQ) by Phil Collins.

I should’ve known that the princess would’ve wanted to talk to me eventually, but it still came as a surprise to me that she showed up in the main hall like that.

“Good evening, Husk! May I ask you some questions?”

A very _annoying_ surprise.

 _Ugh_.

Already more than just a _little_ fucking fed up with her, I gave the expectantly-grinning girl an ugly look as she took a seat on a smudgy barstool, put a bag on top of my bar and pulled out a notebook, placing it on the sticky, wooden surface. She also took out a couple of ballpoints, sharpies, _colored pencils what the actual fuck how old was she_ , and some colorful stickers (???). I leaned against the side of my bar, looking on in barely-hidden apathy as she neatly arranged everything.

“There!” she said at last, clicking with one of her pens and giving me a big, hopeful smile. “Now, my first question is…”

“Did I you hear me say ‘yes’?” I instantly cut her short.

Charlie stopped smiling. “You mean… I _can’t_ ask you questions?”

“That’s right, princess. You can’t, because I’m fucking _busy_.” I weirdly gestured to the otherwise empty seats, safe for the three sinners that were snoring away, their fucked-up faces squashed flat against the bar. “You see? _Very_ busy. Drowning in work I am. So go draw your fucking rainbows somewhere else.”

“Oh… but I was hoping to ask you…”

She began to pout now. Her big, yellow/black-ish eyes started to shimmer and her lower lip quivered dangerously.

Pulling out the big guns, wasn’t she.

…

Mother _fuck_.

Groaning out loudly, I slapped a paw into my own face, pulling it down, making my disgruntled mug seem even longer. Then I let go of it, sat my ass down on an unstable stool as well and shoved me and my stool closer to the bar, opposite of where Charlie was seated. Chagrined, I jolted my elbow down on the bar, put a hand to my fuzzy cheek and stared at the princess.

“…I’m listening.”

Understandably, the girl began to gloat in satisfaction. “Thank you, Husk!”

“Yeah yeah, don’t mention it.” I huffed. “What do you want to ask?”

“It’s about—”

“One more thing real quick: don’t you have anything _better_ to do?” I broke her off again. “Hell, I don’t want to butt into your affairs and shit, but up to like a week ago, you were pretty damn occupied with being Little Miss Doomsday. The hotel was a goddamn _mess_. There were walls smoldering for two fucking _weeks_. Now that you’re finally out of your Perverted Mrs. Hyde-phase, shouldn’t you do some hotel-managing already?”

Charlie’s eyes fluttered. A small, timid smile appeared on her face and she shook her head. “Vaggie won’t let me yet. And I don’t think I should, either. There are more pressing matters than the hotel’s current state of being.”

“ _More_ pressing than your precious rehabilitation project?” I cocked my head. “Like what?”

“My own happiness.”

The princess didn’t beam an uneasy, sheepish grin at me, nor did she turn red in shame when she said it. She just looked me _straight_ in the eyes, her unwavering expression solemn and calm. She _meant_ it.

I felt my eyebrows lift themselves up in astonishment. It was a _good_ kind of astonishment, though. I even felt kind of _proud_ of her, for whatever stupid, sentimental reason. Hiding my contentment with a smug smirk, I exhaled profoundly.

“Alright kid – shoot. What’s all of this about and how can this old cat help you out?”

  
**HhH  
  
**

In the following five to ten minutes that Charlie needed to explain herself, I got a pretty good impression of what the princess’ goal was. As I expected, she was trying to find herself a solution to the big dilemma Alastor had left her with, after ‘the night’ had happened: should or shouldn’t she forgive the Radio Demon for being an _absolute massive shithead_ and _pain in the fucking rear_?

Uh, I mean, for dragging and hurting so many people into/with his Heaven-scheme.

Fuck it – it was basically the same anyway.

“You, Angel Dust and Hakim have all played an important part in Al’s plan,” the princess pointedly said. “All three of you were unmissable elements in his scheme – and all three of you decided to help him out, even though you _knew_ it was a pretty awful plan to start with. Alastor already told me that you helped him out of your own accord, and… well, I’d like to know _why_.”

I frowned. “You think that knowing why I, Angel and that other, _actual_ Angel assisted Alastor will be enough for you to help you make up your mind?”

She gave an appalled gasp and fanatically patted on her overflowing, bulky notebook. “Oh no – don’t worry! I’ve done my research more thoroughly than you might think: I’ve already spoken with a lot of other people, too, such as Vaggie, Niffty, mom and dad… and they have all let me know what they feel I should do, or what I should keep in mind when I make my decision. You, Angel and Hakim are the only ones I still need to interrogate. And, like I said, you three and your stances on Al’s scheme are _very_ important in this matter. That’s why I saved you for last.”

“Okay. That kind of explains why you’re so goddamn _peppy_ and _fidgety_. You fucking look like you’ve consumed a lifesaving’s worth of sugar.”

“I _did_ , actually! But that’s not important right now. Anyway, tell me why you did it, Husk.” Charlie moved her upper body towards me expectantly. “I mean, you must have had a good reason to aid Al, right? A _very_ good one. Why else would you agree with such a risky plan?”

“Because I owe him money.”

She deflated a little. “What?”

“I still owe him money, princess.” I sniffed, rubbing my nose. “That’s it.”

“ _That’s_ your sole reason why you helped Alastor out? To wipe away a part of your debt?”

“It is what it is. Sorry to disappoint.” I clacked my tongue in irritation when I saw one of the snoozing sinners accidentally knocking over a (nearly empty, thank fuck) bottle of beer and reached for a dirty old rag. “Is that all you wanted to know? Because I still have work to do, kid.” 

“H-hey – wait a minute!” Charlie said, grabbing my claw before I could move away. “No – that can’t be it! I refuse to believe that you went to do _all that_ , just because you owe Al money. There must be another reason!”

I grunted, trying to shake her hand off me. “Like _what_ , princess? What other possible reason could I have to help that damn piece of shit out with his magnificently _dumbass_ plot?”

“I’m asking _you_!”

“What the fuck do you want me to say then?” I growled, getting more and more irritated with this whole line of questioning. “That I helped him out because we ran out of booze that day and I had nothing better to do anyway? That I came to his aid because I felt sorry for the dickhead, for having to do such an elaborate scheme all by himself? That I assisted him because I for the first time saw something inside of him that actually was _worth_ to be listened to? You want me to say something like _that_ , huh?”

The princess, still holding on to my arm, gave me a bewildered look. “I… uh…”

“Well _tough luck_ , kid! I won’t _ever_ say something like that!” I hissed belligerently at her. “That’d be downright _ridiculous_ and _embarrassing_ and _stupid as shit_ and it makes me want to fucking _barf_ and regret ever even meeting the fucking son of a bitch! But I can’t help it! I still met him, I still got to know him, fucking _hell_ , and so what _else_ was I supposed to do when I found out about it, god fucking dammit – of _course_ I helped him, even when that red bastard didn’t ask me – _especially_ when he didn’t ask me! I just had to, okay, I _had_ to help him out, because that’s what fucking fr— debts are _for_! _Now let go of me!_ ”

Having gotten _way_ more worked up that I had wanted to, I finally managed to yank my arm out of the blonde girl’s grip – who, by the way, was still staring at me with eyes like fucking saucers. I was panting heavily, holding my own paw in my other one while Charlie slowly pulled her notebook and a ballpoint closer to her.

“O-okay. Do you, um, mind if I… write all of that down in my notes?”

“Whatever.” I poured myself in a cold one (don’t fucking judge me, I was allowed to – it was Friday evening, alright?), the gurgling sound of the beer hitting the drippy glass comforting me a little, as it always did. “If that’s going to make you leave my ass sooner, by all fucking means, princess, write it down.”

“Alright! Thank you Husk!”

I snorted, watching as she attacked a brand new page in her memos with the utmost concentration. Hesitantly, I cleared my throat as I read the curly, pretty words she rapidly scrawled down. 

“Just – make sure you spell the word ‘debts’ right. It’s a tricky one.”

“I know.” Charlie paused her scribbling to beam a warm smile at me. “I heard you.”

A red color began to flush my furry complexion and I scoffed, taking a sip from my beer.

“Was that all, kid? Please tell me that was all. I’m fucking _tired_ and so goddamn _thirsty_.”

Charlie held up a hand without looking up from the paper, the hand telling me to ‘wait a moment’. Finally, she finished registering my comment, carefully loaded all of her items back into her bag again and granted me another bright smile, putting the bag’s strap over her shoulder.

“Uhm, if you can tell me where I can find Angel Dust, then yes: that was all.”

“Oh, _him_?” I looked up to the ceiling, humming and trying to remember what the skanky spider was up to again. He _had_ told me this – after dinner, a few hours ago. “Uh… I think he said he was going to walk his pig or something around this time. So he’s somewhere outside, I guess.”

“Thank you – and thanks for your help in general! Right – next stop: Angel Dust! Bye Husk!” She got off the barstool. “Bye Al.”

Bye Al?

I tore my eyes away from the ceiling right away – and almost got a _motherfucking heart attack_ when I suddenly spotted that eerie, red jackass, standing almost an entire fucking _football_ _field_ away from the bar. I didn’t know how long he had been there and I had no idea just how Charlie had sensed his presence at all, but _there_ he was, lurking in the corner of the main hall, and he seemed to be just as impressed by the princess’ perception skills as I was. He quietly looked on as Charlie walked out of the room, before coming my way.

“Jesus _Christ_ , asshole,” I grumbled as he waved at me and stopped in front of the bar, “you realize thatyou don’t _have_ to fucking _creep_ _up_ on her like that, right? You can just fucking go to her and talk to her if you’re that fucking _desperate_ for her!”

Alastor shook his head. “You know I _can’t_ , good fellow. I’m giving her space to _think_.”

“By stalking her.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “How thoughtful of you.”

He clacked his tongue dismissively. “Now now, I’m not _stalking_ her, Husker. Don’t be silly.”

“Then what _are_ you doing here? Watering the fucking flowers?”

“I’m…”

“Yeah?”

“Well. If you really _insist_ to know – I’m testing out something.”

I nodded. “Ohh, _right_. Testing out something, huh? Yeah. That makes total sense to me.”

“Does it?” he grinned.

“ _No_ it doesn’t. You’re the most pathetic fuck ever and I fucking pity you.” I took another swirl of my beer. “Now – fess up already: what do you want and why are you following the princess around?”

Alastor didn’t respond. He was distracted again, continuously looking into the direction Charlie had left with such a lonely and lost expression on his face that it made me want to fucking _haul_ _him_ _over_ to the princess already, push him on top of her and – I don’t know – tie them up together or something. Then I’d leave them alone like that for an hour or two and I’m pretty damn sure the hotel would be a happier place for all people involved afterwards, including _these_ two hopeless boneheads.

But before I _did_ say anything, another thought came up, out of the fucking blue – and I drummed my fingers on top of the bar, catching Alastor’s attention.

“In any case, the princess said she’s almost done questioning people,” I informed him. “Angel Dust and Bob are the last ones left. ”

“Ah! Is that so? That’s good,” he said with a resigned smile.

“Yeah. So maybe you should do _that_ , once she’s finished for real. You remember? That one thing we discussed a few days ago? I mean, we _have_ practiced. A _lot._ ”

Alastor slowly turned his face towards me completely. He didn’t seem to be surprised by my suggestion, but I still saw some doubt on his gray face.

“In all honesty, I _was_ thinking about that, yes. But I don’t know for sure if I should do it today, if today is the right moment for doing something like _that_. I wouldn’t want to come over as forceful.”

“Oh I’ve seen you forceful _plenty_ of times, you scrawny, freaky scarecrow. You’re _not_ though. Not now – not with stakes _this_ high.” I reasoned. “Take it from me: you _should_ do it today. After all, she needs to hear _your_ opinion on the situation, too, if you’d ask me. That way, she really _has_ heard everybody out, and then she can make up her mind. Plus… you know she’ll appreciate you doing _that_.”

“Yes, that’s true. Well, _alright_ then!” The tall douchebag, suddenly a lot more upbeat sounding, flashed me a yellow-toothed smile and smacked his hands down on top of the bar, making a few glasses, jars and jugs tinkle in protest. “It’s settled then: with your feline blessings, we’re doing _that_ , after she has spoken with Angel Dust and Hakim. How very _wonderful_! I’m already getting excited – it’s been a while! Would you please be so kind to start the preparations with me now, dear Husker? My good, loyal friend? _Hmm_?”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. Great – if _one_ half of the idiot couple wasn’t using her tears to get me to do whatever she wanted, the _other_ half was using his bizarre charm to make me bow to his will, too. _Jesus_. No fucking _wonder_ they complimented each other so well.

But oh well. I _did_ encourage him to do _that_ today. And besides, it wasn’t like business was booming now anyway… so I gave Alastor a curt nod.

“Fine. I’ll fucking help your useless, transparent ass out. As per _usual_.”

While Alastor and his damn radio audience burst into laughter and the Radio Demon gratefully shook my hand, I just groaned.

Ugh. The things I did for—

…paying off my debts.

**DdD**

**  
**You know, it kind of sucked massive dick that I still wasn’t able to leave the hotel’s property and _not_ fear for my safety: Valentino’s porn goons were always close-by and I knew they’d have my delectable ass on a silver platter the freaking second I dared to place even one beanie toe outside of the hotel’s protective magical-empowered fence. But hey – at least I could still go outside for a little while and walk Fat Nuggets in the relatively big garden, even if it was already evening.

Eh.

It wasn’t the fucking jackpot, but it wasn’t the worst either. I remembered that I got, like, extremely stressed out in the first few weeks I lived here, since I couldn’t go _anywhere_ anymore _without_ having either Charlie or Alastor nearby, like a bunch of weirdo-bodyguards, but everything gets old eventually. Even the fact that my world was considerably smaller and more limited these days.

Still, things could be worse. Case in point: I was aware that some of my former co-workers had tried to get away from Val’s Porn Palace before as well, and all they had found back from _them_ were some fingers and bits and parts of their heavily burned genitals.

 _Burned._ _Genitals_.

Sheesh, I mean, I always knew Val was one imaginative crackhead, but great balls on fire, that smelly shit’s just flamingly nutty.

Heh heh. Man, good one, I fucking _slayed_ myself. I had to tell Vags all of those glorious puns later – she wouldn’t like them at all, but she’d get this insanely gruff ‘the- _fuck_ -why-am-I-screwing-you-again’-expression and that was the funniest shit since Fat Nuggets ate a blanket and pooped yarn for a week, I swear to Satan. 

Anyways, what I was trying to say was that I was just happy that I could venture outside at _all_ , really. I had it _good_ , in comparison to many other sinners, so yeah, no complaints here – not even when the Princess of Hell butted in on my sacred quality time with the most precious piece of unbaked bacon known to man and bothered me with dumb questions she already _knew_ the freaking answer to.

“Y-yes? So – huff – y-you _really_ agreed to join in on Al’s plan, just because – because you thought he was right?”

Her Highness was a bit out of breath as she did her best to keep up with my (and Fat Nuggets') quick pace of walking. It wasn’t easy for her. Hell, her legs were rather longish as well, but _I_ had legs that _literally_ went on for fucking _days_. Instead of asking me to please slow down or even stop wandering entirely though, the blonde ninny stubbornly kept speed-walking, talking _and_ writing down her notes, all at the _same_ _fucking_ _time_.

“Yep,” I told her as nonchalantly as possible. “You’re a sweet girlie, Charlie, even if you’re kind of a frigid and overdramatic bitch every now and then. Nobody’s perfect though, and really, all things considered, if there’s _someone_ that deserves to see Heaven from up close, it’s _you_.”

“A-ah ha…” Charlie wheezed, noting it.

“I can stop walking, ya know.”

“No, no! That’s okay!” She grinned at me, sweat-drops pearling on her forehead. “I’ve got no time to lose, and you have better things to do as well, so…”

“Uh-huh.” I looked down at Fat Nuggets, happily porking away around me and the princess’ feet, and brought my fingers to my mouth. A sharp, earsplitting whistle penetrated (heh heh) the air. My pet pig instantly stopped pitter-pattering, sitting down right at the spot – and Charlie shrieked a shrill cry of surprise as she stumbled over the meaty little beasty, hilariously falling face-down in the fucking _mud_.

“ _Now_ I can stop walking,” I officially announced, _very_ contented with this end result – and didn’t hold back a snicker as I fished the soggy, slushy princess out of the brown puddle and put her panting ass down on the grass.

  
**DdD  
  
**

Charlie thank _fuck_ didn’t attempt to keep up a tough front anymore once she had _filthily_ dirtied her pretty doll-face like that ( _oof_ , I love how fucking _naughty_ that sounded). Defeated, she dazedly stared up at me as I crouched down in front of her, pulling out a lacy handkerchief out of my prizewinning Fluff Boobs™.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,” I playfully admonished her, grabbing her face and rubbing the handkerchief over her nose, “ya impatient lil’ minx – I get it! Really, I do: you’re in a hurry, you’re having a bit of a dry spell and ya need to get a BIG load of Alastor’s _fine_ vitamin D as soon as demonically possible. Clear as day! Heh, oh blondie, don’t I know _that_ feel!”

Charlie, comically _offended_ by this flamboyant assumption (but reddening anyway), tried to say something in her defense, but all the mud and my hankie blocked her mouth _very_ nicely. 

I gave the princess a critical look. “But toots – criminally horny or not, it’s still not good enough of a reason to fucking _race the clock_ as you try to make up yer mind. Just take yer time already! Didn’t smiles tell ya that, too?”

“You… you don’t get it at all!” Charlie huffily said, pushing away my hand and handkerchief. “It’s been – almost _another_ week, Angel, and I had promised him to come up with my decision as quickly as I could! B-but I’m trying to do it the _correct_ way, and it takes a lot of time, more than I had anticipated, and… it’s so _frustrating_. I need to get to my answer _faster_ , but – I just can’t seem to do anything _right_.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, putting away my hanky and watching Fat Nuggets’ fat butt roll around in the tiny quagmire I had pulled Charlie out of. “But, uh, aren’t ya kinda _doing_ _just_ _that_? Doing it _right_ , I mean?”

Charlie’s shoulders made a quick up and down-movement. “I don’t know.”

“Oh ya so fucking _do know_.” I snapped my fingers, making her look up at me. “Lemme guess: since it’s _you_ we’re talking ‘bout here, ya’ve probs already talked to practically _everyone_ in the hotel, made nice little notes of every stupid lil’ conversation ya had, thought about the problem and all the possible ‘what-ifs’ _every single_ night _and_ put together a fucking mindmap, a supportive poster - anda stage play, to top it all off.”

“Hey, I didn’t do _any_ of those last few things you said! Don’t exaggerate it!” Charlie looked away from me with a bright, pink blush. “…but I might have made a PowerPoint-presentation.”

“Wha— a goddamn _PowerPoint-presentation_ – are ya fucking _kidding me_?” I groaned, shaking my head at her. “Hell, I dunno what the fucking crap a PowerPoint-presentation even _is_ and yet I _still_ know it’s something ya’ve put _wayyyyyy_ too much work in!”

Charlie drew in her breath sharply. “I didn’t put ‘ _wayyyyyyy_ too much’ work in it at _all_!”

“Oh no?” I shot back.

“No! It’s the _best_ I can do!” she snapped, shaking. “Collecting all the information I can get, arranging the facts as carefully as I’m able to and… and trying to make the most honest choice based on all of that… like I said, it’s… it’s the best I can do.”

Her fiery spunk died down right after and she seemed to be kind of preoccupied afterwards, but I smiled at her nevertheless, patting her on the back.

“ _Exactly_. It’s the _best_ ya can do. And that’s _just_ what you’re doing: you’re giving it yer all. Good for you, toots. Al’s gonna appreciate that.”

She raised her head again, looking at me wearily… but she didn’t say anything. She just nodded a bit, uttering a soft, yet resigned sigh as she started putting her stuff back in her ugly-ass bag ( _damn_ , that dork and I needed to go do some emergency shopping later – and maybe we could buy Vaggie some new damn shoes while we were at it as well: no way I’m letting _my_ girl parade in those wooden smelly yachts she chucked at my head last week).

Ahh, but I was digressing.

“Anyways,” I started, scrolling through my phone while giving one of the Demonic Princess’ blonde locks a pestering tug with my other hand, “do ya still need to do a lot?”

“No – and I think that’s why I’m in such a rush: I might be able to come up with my answer _today_.” Charlie clutched her bag to her chest. “It’s almost eight o‘clock, so… so there should be enough time left for me to interrogate Hakim and have my answer.”

I nodded. “Fair enough.”

“But…” She bit her lower lip.

“But what?”

“…w-what if I _don’t_ have my answer ready by then?” She frowned. “What if I’ll still… have doubts?”

“Then _that’s_ yer answer,” I easily said. “And ya’ll just have to accept that, toots.”

While a effectively spooked Charlie whimpered in response, I saw a message popping up on my screen. Mildly interested, I opened it, reading its contents.

“Right,” I heard Charlie say next to me, “then I guess I better go look for Hakim now.”

“Yea,” I agreed, my fingers dancing over the phone’s screen. “Do that. I think he’s in that lil’ side room of yer library – ya know, that one hidden extra room in which Niffty likes to write her sultry homosexual bullcrap? My eyes still sting from the last time I tried to read some of _that_ radioactive poison. Anyhow, she apparently forces internet-lessons on our moody Angel man in there.”

“She _does_?” 

“Yup. And ya _know_ how Niffty is. Ya better hurry up if ya want to safe whatever purity’s still left in good ol’ Bobberton,” I snickered. 

Charlie let out another shriek and hastily jumped up from the grass, almost tumbling over Fat Nuggets once more. “Oh god – thanks for the warning, I – I better get a move on!”

“Wait a sec,” I yelled after the running – boy she was _fast_ – princess, just when she was about to slip into the hotel’s dark back entrance (heh heh), “how much time will ya need for yer cute convo with Bobby-Boy? Like, one hour, two hours…?”

She stopped moving, giving me a confused frown over her shoulder as she pulled up her tacky bag a bit. “Stop giving him those weird nicknames, Angel, you know his name is _Hakim_. And… I have no idea? Why do you need to know?”

“Ya think you’re done talking around ten tonight?” I asked her, ignoring her question while doing so. “And can ya tell Niffty and Bobberto to come to the main hall then?”

“I – well, I hope so? But why—”

A loud, long moan _pounded_ (heh heh) all over Charlie’s poor sentence, cutting her right off and bringing all the boys to the yard… had there been any boys around. But there weren’t, meaning I basically wasted a perfectly good moan for nothing, for fuck’s sake. For nothing _and_ for fuck’s sake.

“Holy _hell,_ Charlie, isn’t Bobfred’s sanity worth _anything_ to ya?” I complained right after. “The longer ya keep yipping here, the less likely his corrupted Angelic ass will _ever_ set foot in Heaven again! _Go_ , woman! Go do yer thing and save a soul!”

‘Save’ turned out to be the magic word: hardly had I said it, or Charlie turned around again and _ran_ into the hotel, smacking the door shut behind her. I was satisfied with this great outcome and smirked, typing in a short “done, I’m coming (heh heh)” in the reply I was sending back to the messenger. Then I stretched out my arms and laid down on the grass, looking up at the dark, red moon in the evening sky.

Yeah yeah, I know I had told them I was going to come right away, but ehhh. Five more minutes. Quality time with my wee pink thing was important, after all.

Heh heh.

  
**BbB**

**  
**“Although it is perfectly understandable you would assume I thought extraordinarily ill of the eccentric strategy your hostile suitor was following in the interest of verifying your incorruptible being will find her way to Eternal Paradise, I have to say that, much to my own trepidation, I am obligated to concede the Radio Demon was unquestionably correct about his aspiration to help you ascend to Heaven: after countless scrupulous observations, I too have reached the conclusion that you may lay claim on the right to intrude the Pearly Gates of the Celestial City.”

Princess Charlotte gaped at me, completely baffled, her pencil hanging in the air motionless. Niffty was at a loss for words, too – both females gawked at me like I had spoken in a foreign language.

Annoyed, I turned away from the computer I was working on and cast my eyes upwards, sighing.

“…yes, I am helping Alastor with his Heaven-scheme because I, after having observed you for a while, have come to believe he actually is right about you.”

“Ohhh,” Niffty said, nodding and picking up her jaw from the floor.

“Ahh – I-I knew you were saying _that_ ,” Princess Charlotte also hurriedly said, granting me a meek smile as she pushed her golden hair behind her ear. “I just was… uhm… still busy decoding it. In my head. I mean, god, you sure know… lots of words! It startled me a bit. Sorry.”

I smiled back at her, because that apparently simply happened automatically nowadays, whenever the princess was kind enough to look at me with an expression like that. “Do not be sorry, for I do not mind, Princess Charlotte. I am already more than thrilled to see you have grown accustomed enough to Alastor’s kooky plan to be able to talk about it freely, without looking as sullen as you did before.”

She bobbed her head a little, the pencil now hanging from her lips, and she folded her hands on top of the notebook resting in her lap. As she thought of something to say, Niffty pulled on my sleeve and showed me her laptop screen. Although, showing, showing – she practically shoved the device in my _face_.

“Look look Bob I fixed allllll he spelling errors you found before do you think it’s good enough to upload now or?????? Should I check it all once again??? What do you say??????” Her blue, human eye showed up above the screen “You think people will give me more kudos like _this_????”

“Hmm,” I muttered, glancing over the flickering monitor while rubbing my chin, “well – have you also edited that one part, the one with all the copulation your main characters engage in during the beach party? Because frankly, I think it is a bit of a stretch to think Alastor will persist for five rounds when all those males come at him at once, even if you _did_ make sure he has the… where did you write it… ah, there it is: the ‘stamina’ and ‘implements’ of ‘a great wild horse that hasn’t gotten any for 654 years’.”

The princess nearly choked on the pencil she was chewing on and started a violent coughing fit.

Niffty, however, listened carefully, before pulling the laptop back. “Okeydokey – I’m on it!! I’ll show you again when I’ve finished this part okay??? And thanks again for helping me out with this Bob!!!”

I gave her a nod. “Do not mention it. You are always helping me learning new concepts of this world and the internets, so the least I can do is help you out with your… hum. Hobby. If that even is what you should call it.”

She grinned mysteriously and walked off - and now that Niffty was going to adjust her story in another part of the library’s workspace, I could finally aim all of my undivided attention at the charming princess. So I unhurriedly twisted the chair I sat on into her direction. Immediately, the princess stopped coughing and eyed me suspiciously.

“…so, you’re assisting Niffty with her unholy fanfics these days? As a... thank-you for teaching you how to use the PC?”

“Affirmative,” I said. “It seemed like the logical action to do. I _did_ learn a lot from her.”

“I bet you did,” she muttered, now glancing at the computer screen. “What are you doing now, by the way?”

“Looking up information,” I replied.

“About?”

“The Void.”

She blinked, obviously not expecting that answer. “The Void? Like… the second-death’s-the-charm – Void? The black hole… thing?”

“That is the one,” I confirmed.

“Why?” she asked.

I had to watch out now.

“Because I do not know as much about it as I believed I did,” I explained. “I wish to know more about it, so that this new knowledge can possibly assist me with future happenings.”

“Oh, uh… would you mind giving me an example of such a… happening?” the curious princess wanted to know.

“Yes. I _would_ mind.” I shot her an apologizing look. “Please forgive me, Your Highness, but that is the simple truth: I rather not tell you more about it, for multiple reasons. I hope you will respect that.”

As I had hoped, the princess’ face flushed and she stammered a couple of sorry’s, flubbing her arms around and almost flinging her notebook and bag on the ground in the process.

“S-sorry – how rude of me, I didn’t mean to pry! It’s okay, Hakim, you can just keep it to yourself if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Thank you,” I gratefully said. 

“That reminds me…” The princess stopped flailing about and bent forwards a little. “Do you… have a preference on what people should call you? Because I’ve been calling you ‘Hakim’ ever since finding out you’re an Angel and that _that_ was the name my asshole father gave to you, but I’ve noticed I seem to be the only one doing that. Niffty and most of the hotel’s sinners are still calling you Bob, Vaggie seems to switch between Bob and Hakim, and Angel Dust… well he calls you a _lot_ of things, but _not_ Hakim.”

I shrugged. “In all fairness, I do not mind either name. I will react to Bob. I will react to Hakim. And I will react to Angel No. 9918233423645242537 – but I heavily suspect that last one will not stick.” 

The princess chuckled. “I don’t think so, either.”

“You…” I hesitated, my hands gripping my knees. “You – you may call me however you wish to call me. You may even come up with a new name for me, if you would like to do so.”

Unable to see hear the throbbing of my heart or see through my calm demeanor, Princess Charlotte shook her head. “Oh no - I’m the only one here consistently calling you Hakim anyway, so I’ll just continue calling you that.”

“You are not the only one.” Again, I wavered. “Alastor has started calling me Hakim again as well.”

Upon hearing me speak out his name, the princess winced. Tightening her hands on the adequately-filled journal on her legs, her face lost some of its shine and she uttered a soft sigh.

“Is there something the matter?” I asked.

She snorted, almost sarcastically. “Well – _yeah_? You know, right? The entire hotel knows: I’m supposed to decide for myself whether or not to forgive Al for everything he has put everyone through. And I’ve been busy with it for almost an entire week now – I’ve questioned people, I’ve written everything down and looked at it in different ways… heck, I’ve even been convinced I had my answer ready a couple of times, but when I looked at myself in the mirror later and rephrased all of that in my own words, it sounded so… _empty_. So _studied_. Not like… something I truly feel from the bottom of my heart. And that worries me. Because…”

She let her head and shoulders slump a bit before carrying on.

“…because Al will _know_ if I’m just… reciting words. And he won’t accept those as an answer. I can write down all the answers in the world and carefully weigh them all, one by one, making sure to reach the only true solution like that… but if there’s nothing _more_ behind those answers than just _that_ , I don’t think he’ll be convinced of my decision.”

“So you forgive him,” I comprehended.

Her voice was a whisper when she spoke up: “I… I forgive him, yes... but how can I let him know that I _really_ …”

My mind temporarily shut off the other words falling out of the princess’ mouth and I swallowed. She had made up her mind. She forgave him. Realizing this harsh, but legitimate truth made my chest burn and ache terribly. It was grueling and felt so, _so_ much more horrible than sleeping on the cold floor of Rosie’s dungeon, or surviving that mind-numbing torture she had put me through.

Not because she had decided to forgive Alastor. That was her decision and hers alone and I respected her choice, regardless of my own opinion and feelings on the matter.

No: it was because this answer meant there truly was no hope left for a simpler happy ending for her. Or me. Or me _and_ her. As far as there ever _was_ a me and her.

What a way to lose.

“Bob!”

Niffty’s perky, high-pitched tone of voice made both the princess and me myself wake up from our own personal mishmashes of thoughts and worries, and I bat my moderately misty eyes, sending the small cyclops girl a questioning look. She was waving a small, rectangle-shaped object around and grinned excitedly at me.

“I got a message telling me that we should hurry up and come down to the main hall already! _Something’s_ going to happen – and we know _what_ that something is according to Angel Dust because yes it’s him that sent this message btw just in case you didn’t know that yet lol – and they need us to be there as well!”

It took me some time to let this information simmer into my somewhat crushed state of mind – but one concerned, bewildered gaze from Princess Charlotte was enough to have everything spontaneously rearrange itself inside of my head. I even managed to curl my lips upwards as I began to talk to the princess once more.

“If you truly forgive Alastor and want him to know in the most _sincere_ way you can think of, I think you probably already understand what you need to tell him.”

“H-huh?” she stuttered and watched as I shut down the computer and raised up from the chair. “Wait – like _what_? And what – what are you doing? Where are you go—”

“The main hall, of course. You heard the little lady over there,” I matter-of-factly said, while Niffty giggled. “And _you_ will go there, too, once you get what I am telling you.”

“B-but I—!”

“It is the _only_ thing he has been waiting for you to say all along – and that is all I will tell you, because you have got no idea how much it tears me apart to help him like this. As I am in love with you.”

Instead of looking on as the oblivious princess’ mouth dropped and realization dawned upon her at last, I fleetly turned to the door leading to the library, which would make me follow a path that would eventually guide me to the door to the corridor, that would subsequently make me walk downstairs, to the main hall, where all the others were waiting.

I could hear Niffty gathering her stuff and swiftly jumping to her feet, walking right behind me as I started strutting. It were strange, unsteady steps, but it were steps nevertheless – steps that increasingly grew more firm and confident with every move I made.

Regardless of the outcome – right then and there, I was positive that I had done well.

  
**CcC**

**  
**I was _completely_ _blown_ _away_ for a little while, after Hakim and Niffty had left me behind in the library’s workspace like that.

I mean, what the crap _–_ Hakim was _in love_ with me?! For… for how _long_? And _why_? And—

No, no! _Focus_ , Charlie! I blinked my eyes, huffed and correctively slapped my hands to my face a few times for a much-needed wake-up-call. There’s a time and place for everything and now’s _not_ the time _nor_ place to panic about Hakim suddenly confessing his love to me. I could always mull over that later, when all of this was just an unpleasant memory we would all laugh about. Right _now,_ I had more _urgent_ things to ponder about! After all, they were – waiting? In the main hall?

What was going on?

I started gnawing on my nails and thought about the things Hakim had told me, right before he had walked away with Niffty.

 _“If you truly forgive Alastor and want him to know in the most sincere way you can think of, I think you probably already understand what you need to tell him.”_

But I _didn’t_ understand – I didn’t _think_ I understood, at least? He had been too vague! He should have known I was too much of a ditz to get everything he said – why hadn’t he told me something more than that!

Oh – wait, he _had_.

_“It is the only thing he has been waiting for you to say all along.”_

The only thing Alastor had been waiting for me to say.

What _was_ that?

What was the _only_ _thing_ Al had been waiting for me to say all along, and the _only_ _thing_ that would instantly convince him of the trustworthiness of my answer?

Then it suddenly hit me.

And the second it hit me, the second I realized, right away, that _that,_ indeed _,_ was the only possible way for me to convey my feelings and ultimate answer to him.

I had found it – the solution.

Thank god.

Thank _god_.

I gasped and cupped my own face, trembling. I felt like crying, just from the sweet _relief_ and the liberating _satisfaction_ of my whole anxious, nervous body unwinding and relaxing its tense muscles at that moment, at once, _at last_ , since all of me _knew_ it was the right conclusion to reach. The _right_ message to tell him.

 _Thank god_ …!

Just like that, I stopped shaking and got up from the chair. To be on the safe side, I took all of my notes and scribbles with me as well, stuffing them impatiently into my bag as I ran through the library, looking through the neat book cases and over the colorful spines as I located the door and locked my eyes on it.

There was no more time to lose. I needed to see him. _Right_ _now_.

  
**CcC**

  
Outside the library, I heard music playing. It started like an _explosion_ , as soon as I had closed the door of the precious, hidden room I liked to hold my breaks in behind me, almost as if it was pre-arranged like that. _Was_ it, really? I didn’t know.

But I _did_ know that that were actual, honest-to-goodness instruments I heard playing downstairs.

 _Real_ drums, guitars, trumpets, keyboards – and even saxophones! They _blared_ their upbeat, beckoning (and – recognizable?) notes though the empty, darkened hallway, demanding me to immediately follow their sounds to the place they were waiting for me. I didn’t think at that instant – I simply began to walk, then I walked a bit faster, and in the very end, I _spurted_ down the staircases like my very life depended on it. I wheezed and I panted, and my lungs _really_ weren’t happy with me at that moment. But I didn’t care – not when I heard they were repeating the song’s intro over and over now, the drums even, hard, energetic _bang_ -sound telling me to hurry up. 

I gulped and I laughed and I teared up while running, because – he had promised me he would do this for me one day – I hadn’t known that that day would be _this_ day!

The familiar music got louder and more persistent, the closer I got to the only imaginable room the beats and thrums were coming from: the main hall. _Naturally_.

In front of its closed doors, I waited for a bit, willing my heartbeat and way of breathing to calm down – ssssh, easy now, it was all going to be okay – before I reached out to the doorknobs, grabbed them firmly and opened both doors, revealing to me the wonderful surprise inside of the space, saved for special events only.

And there he was.

  
**CcC**

_  
“We had a life, we had a love  
but you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til you lose it.”  
  
_

Standing in the spotlights, in the middle of the stage, all in the back of the main hall, was Al – together with Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Niffty and Hakim. Vaggie was holding a trumpet in her hands, Husk was playing the drums, Angel Dust had a saxophone, Hakim wielded a guitar and Niffty stood behind a keyboard that was way too big for her small person (but a conveniently-placed crate helped her out). Al, however, didn’t have an instrument. All he had was his own red microphone.

But let’s be perfectly honest here: that was all Al needed.

  
_“Well that was then and this is now  
and I want you back  
How many times do I have to say  
I’m sorry, yes I’m sorry.”  
  
_

They were not the sole people present in the great hall and I was not the only person watching them. Most, if not all of the hotel’s sinners, were surrounding the platform, bouncing and encouraging the bizarre bunch on top of the stage with loud bawls and rhythmical motions of their bodies. Some of them had noticed me walking into the lively main hall and nudged one another, laughing and pointing at me.

  
_“How can something so good go so bad  
how can something so right go so wrong?  
I don’t know, I don’t have all the answers  
But I want you back  
How many times can I say I’m sorry?” _

_  
_The lyrics Alastor sang barely came through to me – how _could_ they, when I all of a sudden was being pushed forwards towards the stage? Everybody was having a ball, pulling and tugging on my arms, and all I was able to do was – _let_ them, all while my spread-open-wide eyes took in the captivating performance that was going on on that very podium, now just a few feet away from me.

  
_“You know, you can run and you can hide  
but I’m not leaving ‘less you come with me  
We’ve had our problems but I’m on your side  
You’re all I need, please believe in me.”_

_  
_During this part – the chorus – the hotel’s clients had accomplished to successfully maneuver me all the way from the bar (near the entrance of the main hall) to the front of the stage, in the back of the room. As the thundering music rang into my ears, I looked up at the wooden platform above me and my elated gaze met Alastor’s, who was _really_ having the time of his life up there. Smiling from ear to ear, he sang his heart out to me, his eyes never wandering away from mine.

  
_“I only wanted someone to love  
But something happened on the way to Heaven  
It got a hold on me and wouldn’t let go  
And I want you back  
How many times do I have to say  
I’m sorry, yes, I’m sorry.”_

_  
_Wait a minute – this was a _love_ _song_ , wasn’t it?

No matter how you put it and no matter how spirited, animated and dynamic the cheesy nineties music was, the sentences resonating through all of that boisterous, melodically-funky noise were a clearly the message of a man, fervently apologizing to his lover and pleading to her to… 

…believe in him.  
  


_“You know, you can run and you can hide  
but I’m not leaving ‘less you come with me  
We’ve had our problems but I’m on your side  
You’re all I need, let me show you.”_

  
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my _god_ – yes, Alastor was _actually_ singing me a love song. Right in front of _everyone_ , even! I couldn’t believe it!

Unable to stop myself, I began swaying my body back and forth to the music, just like the rest of the swinging tenants were doing. I had the biggest, dopiest smile of all right now, which lit the rest of my face up like a Christmas tree. Alastor, however, looked very thoughtful as he sang the next row of lines, still while watching my every movement with the strangest glint in his red-and-brown eyes.

  
 _“They say you can’t take it with you when you go  
and I believe it  
But taking what I’ve got, or being here with you  
You know I, I’d rather leave it.”_

  
What was he trying to tell me?

Flustered, charmed and confused, I cast my eyes down, away from him. My cheeks were hot and tingling from the booming buzz around me and my thoughts were swirling around, like there was vortex spinning around in the very center of my overwhelmed brain.

I was aware that _that_ were the lyrics of the song – of _course_ I was. I knew this number, after all. I had played it before, all those weeks ago, when I was preparing for the karaoke evening and had wondered what kind of song I had wanted Alastor to sing to. Phil Collins had some nineties hits, too – fun ones, cynical ones, more serious ones, and I remembered having difficulties deciding on what Collins-song I should pick out for him.

 _This_ song hadn’t been one of them, though. After having listened to it once, I had found the lyrics too generic and the title too misleading: the singer only let the title drop just _once_ , after all. Like it wasn’t important – like the sentence was a mere afterthought, while it actually was the name of the _whole_ _dang_ _song_.

Was there more behind it though?

I pushed this piece of speculation to the back of my mind for now, and as I danced to the music, laughed out loud at the many fake-chagrined faces Husk and Hakim were making behind their instruments (because I _saw_ they were having fun, they couldn’t fool me!), waved at Vaggie and Angel Dust and cheered Niffty on, I heard Alastor nearing the ending of the song.  
  


_“You can run and you can hide  
but I’m not leaving until it’s all over  
We’ve had our problems but I’m on your side  
You’re all I need, please believe in me.”_

_  
_In the period of time that Vaggie, Husk and the others played the outro of the song (and Hakim really _shredded_ that guitar-solo), Al put the microphone back to its stand, making it disappear right after in a flashy cloud of magic. Barely had he done that, or someone in the audience – the real audience, not his own invisible one – started to yell “Bravo!”. Soon after, somebody else began to clap their hands as well. Then somebody whistled, another sinner whooped and screamed, yet another one pumped their fists into the air, and within a few seconds, the little ensemble on the podium (with all the participants now recovering from their act and looking around themselves with proud grins on their faces) was getting a roaring applause.

I was one of them – I clapped my hands together and kept mashing them together, again and again and again, until they were raw and red from the effort.

While the rest of his band enjoyed the cheers and approving shouts (and even started to awkwardly take bows), I managed to attract Al’s attention. He was a little out of breath and it really showed he had given it his all, but as soon as he saw me, everything about him seemed to glow up. He opened his mouth, about to tell me something – but I beat him to it before he could.

“The study room,” I yelled, through all the other yelling around me. “Meet me in the study room, Al! I have to tell you something!”

Perplexed, he stared at me.

“ _Already?_ Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!”

“Is that… _good_ news?”

I chuckled, beaming such a humongous smile at him I feared the sides of my mouth would crack.

“I see you in a bit, darling!”

The sudden, relieved flush covering Al’s entire face was almost as intense as the one coloring my own cheeks.

Giggling and _very_ pleased with how I had handled things, I spun around on my heels, hoping I would be able to leave the main hall quickly and fairly unnoticed. But nearly every single sinner and degenerate present in the room had apparently caught most of what I had shouted at Alastor, or so I realized after turning away from the podium – and I had to make a beeline for the door, hiding my stupidly-grinning face in my hands from embarrassment when the hollering, howling and applause grew louder and – _way_ more suggestive.

It was okay though!

After all, if it was up to me… they weren't _wrong._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four domestic animals (a donkey, a dog, a cat and a rooster) agree to leave their homes and set out together: they are afraid their masters will soon discard or mistreat them, since they’re all past their prime years. They therefore decide to go to Bremen, a town known for its freedom, and become musicians there. Because why the heck not?  
> On their way to Bremen, the animals see a cottage. They peek inside and see four robbers, enjoying their loot and food. The animals, all standing on one another’s back, begin making horrible noises, effectively scaring the thieves away. The donkey, dog, cat and rooster then take possession of the house, enjoy a good meal and settle in for the night.  
> However, the robbers return to the house later that night and send in one of their members to investigate. He sees the shiny eyes of the Cat, and thinks he’s seeing the coals of the fire. So he reaches over to light his candle… and then the following things happen:  
> The Cat scratches his face with her claws --> the Dog bites his leg --> the Donkey kicks him with his hooves --> the Roosters crows and chases him out of the door.  
> The terrified man runs to his fellow-baddies and explains he was ambushed by a scary witch who scratched him (the Cat), a man with a knife (the Dog), a black monster that hit him with a club (the Donkey) and, worst of all, a judge, who screamed bloody murder at him from the rooftop! Naturally, the gang of robbers abandon the cottage to the creepy creatures that had taken it from them. The animals, realizing their fortune, decide to forget about becoming musicians in Bremen – and simply stay in the cottage, living the rest of their lives happily ever after.
> 
> The German storyteller Dorethea Viehmann (1755-1815) told this old tale of four brave and ambitious animals to the Brothers Grimm, who published it in the second volume of Grimms’ Fairy Tales. In spite of its title, in most versions of this tale the animals ironically enough never make it to Bremen and never become musicians at all. In some rare, animated versions, however, they **do** become musicians – and pretty good ones, too!


End file.
